The Journal
by Bear-Bell
Summary: Harry finds Tom Riddle's journal when he's only 4-years-old. *Epic*
1. Chapter 1

When Harry was 4-years-old and starting school with Dudley, Aunt Petunia took them shopping for school supplies. They need a yoga pad (for afternoon naps) their favorite books (for story time), crayons, a pencil, and a notebook (to practice their letters and for coloring).

Dudley got a big, squishy yoga mat. Harry was given the thin, less expensive mat. Then, Dudley was given a cool book that had a lot of pop out pages and knobs to turn. Harry received a secondhand book with torn pages and marks on the book. Dudley was given the best crayons. All 58 colors were listed on the package and it even had a crayon sharpener built into it. That crayon set was what Harry was most jealous of. Harry was more artistic than his cousin. Whenever Harry wasn't doing chores, he was coloring. Yet, Harry only received 12 crayons for school (given, that was better than what he used for coloring at home). Then, when the pair went to pick out pencils, Dudley got some really cool pencils that looked like pens and could light up. Harry was given a simple No. 2.

Even the notebook that Aunt Petunia bought for Harry was ratty and old.

And it was the best notebook Harry ever had.

They didn't use the notebooks for the first few months of school, until after they were accustomed to writing their letters properly. Then, the children started learning basic words and spelling. Harry had trouble because his notebook didn't have lines in it. His sentences ended up curving over the page and going crooked. The worst part of the entire ordeal was that someone kept stealing Harry's pages. Harry was sure of it. Whenever the teacher asked for his work at the end of the week, all of his pages were gone. The notebook was blank.

Harry didn't like primary school that much. Especially nap time, when Harry had to lay still for several hours even though he could never fall sleep. Luckily, after Harry complained, the teacher said she would let him stay up as long as he kept to his mat and didn't disturb the other children. She said Harry could color or look at picture books or do whatever else he wanted to, as long as he was quiet.

One day, Harry decided that he would steal Dudley's 52 crayons and make pictures in his notebook. He figured he couldn't get in trouble for it, because someone was stealing his pages, so no one would ever see the multicolored drawings Harry made in his designated writing book.

After a week of using Dudley's crayons, it happened.

Harry had just drawn a picture of the small playhouse kept in the corner of the room, where he liked to play during free time. Harry was extremely proud of his work. He had drawn all the lines and all the colors just right. Harry was preparing to get up and go show the picture to his teacher when something amazing happened. The colors started fading off the page!

A moment latter, Harry's beautiful picture was gone. And Harry became _extremely_ upset. His picture, the beautiful picture of his favorite play area, was gone! He had worked so _hard_ on that picture! He had spent almost all of nap time drawing it.

Harry was sure that Dudley had found him playing with the 52 crayon pack and had played a nasty trick.

But then, Harry was astounded again. Words began forming on the page.

_Your drawings are nice. Is that the house where you live?_

Harry became very excited, and he immediately started writing. His handwriting was sloppy, and Harry didn't know how to spell most of the words, but the other writer was patient, and began showing Harry the correct spelling.

However, after that first afternoon, the notebook's pages remained blank for a long, long time.

After the initial conversation, Harry thought it was just a dream. When he got home from school, Harry wrote a greeting and the other writer didn't answer back. But then, after staring at his sloppy handwriting long enough, the ink slowly faded from the page. Then, Harry knew that whoever was writing him was still there. At the end of that week, Harry wrote in the journal that he needed his spelling assignments from the past week, and suddenly it was all there.

Harry wrote constantly after that. Even though no one wrote back, he felt like someone was listening to him, and Harry told the person so. Harry told the person that no one listened to him when he tried to tell them things. Especially his family. Harry explained that no one listened when he told them he really _was_ sick, and not just trying to stay home from school, and that no one listened when he told them that _Dudley_ was the one who kicked the side of the television and broke it.

Harry became very attached to the idea of someone listening to him, and maybe even caring, even though there were no replies, He knew someone was there, and he knew they were reading his words. Harry started keeping the notebook with him at all times, to keep it safe. Dudley once whined about wanting the notebook because even though the pages were yellowed and wrinkled, the cover was made of leather. That night, Harry hid the notebook. When his relatives came looking for it, they couldn't find it. Soon, Dudley threw a temper tantrum, and his parents had to rush out and get him a nice leather notebook before he would stop screaming and breaking Petunia's decorative china.

When he told the notebook about this, Harry finally received a response. The writer asked Harry where he hid the notebook. Harry was glad to launch into his story.

It was another two years before Harry discovered that the notebook contained a living person (or once living). It came about when Aunt Petunia cut his hair one day, and it all grew back over night. Harry was locked into the cupboard and had no one to talk to except for Tom. That was when Tom explained that Harry was a wizard. At first, Harry said it was impossible. His relatives told him that magic didn't exist. But Tom said _Then__how__was__I__trapped__in__this__journal?_

Harry didn't know how to answer. He always assumed there was something electronic hidden within the leather cover. Like a computer, or some kind transmitter.

However, Harry quickly came around to the idea. After all, he was a child. He was a lonely child with a negligent family and only one friend, and he much preferred to listen to the things his friend told him than to the things his family said.

Soon, Tom was telling Harry all about magic and Hogwarts, and how Tom hadn't known he was a wizard until he was invited to the school.

Tom told Harry to be weary of Hogwarts. Tom told stories about how the teachers were idiots, and if Harry really wanted to learn anything useful, he had to learn it on his own. Then, Tom told Harry about how very few of the students understood this, and knowledge had to be forced on them. Tom informed Harry that there would be one or two other people who would want to learn with him, but Harry would mostly be on his own.

He told Harry horror stories about Albus Dumbledore, who got mad when Tom tried to learn things on his own. Tom said the old man was very strict about magic. Dumbledore didn't believe that magic was simply magic. He believed that there was a distinct difference between good magic and bad magic. Tom told Harry that while some magic did hurt people, it was meant to be that way. Harry decided to apply this idea to radiation, because while it could cure cancer, it still hurt someone while healing them or it could kill a person after too much exposure. Tom agreed with his analogy (even though he didn't know what radiation was at the time), then he went on to explain that there was a very delicate balance to energy, and it was colored good or bad depending on the spirit of the wielder.

Tom also told Harry about his tragic past- his dead mother, his father's abandonment, and how horrible the orphanage was. Tom's stories of the orphanage were what scared Harry the most. Uncle Vernon threatened to take him to an orphanage all the time. Tom said there were horrible people on the streets, and they did mean things to children. His stories sometimes reminded Harry of his own aunt and uncle, and of how Dudley made all the children at school hate him. Because of the similarity of their situations, Harry began to take great stock in Tom's wisdom. After all, Tom was older, and he had more experience than Harry did. Then, there was also the small fact that Tom was very, very smart.

After coming to this conclusion, Harry clung to Tom's every piece of advice with the hopes that he could avoid some of the events Tom had gone through.

Tom was all Harry had. Their connection was reinforced and strengthened by their similarities: neither of them grew up with parents, they weren't cared for by the people who were given responsibility for them, and they were both magical people growing up in a non-magical environment. By the time Harry was 9-years-old, Harry idolized Tom, and they were best friends. The two told each other everything. Tom told Harry about how he wanted to change the entire world; he wanted to completely reform wizard society by enacting old wizard traditions and creating a greater division between wizards and Muggles so that wizard-kind could truly embrace their magic and live as their own entities. Harry shared this ambition with him, and so Tom began teaching Harry some basic magic.

Their first goal: getting Tom out of the journal. Harry was taught basic exercises on how to control his magic even if Harry wasn't yet strong enough to completely feel it. Harry used these lessons to send his energy to Tom. The first time their energy connected, it was wonderful- at least for the first minuet. For a brief moment, Harry _was_ completely aware of his magic, and he could feel it coursing through him. Harry loved the reassurance of his magic.

But then Harry got too excited. He started sending too much magic to Tom. Huge bursts of energy began pulsing through he connection, and Harry put myself into a magical coma. He retreated into himself for 4 days, and the Dursley's had to send Harry to the hospital.

The Muggles never did understand what was wrong with Harry. They called it a vitamin deficiency.

Harry was happy to get home, especially because his relatives hadn't brought Tom's journal to the hospital. He was ready write in the notebook again and talk to his friend, tell him about how _amazing_ the magic felt, even if the results were less than pleasant.

But when Harry went to his cupboard, he was astonished. He saw a strange creature sitting on his bed. It had red eyes, sharp teeth and long, claw-like fingers. When it first saw Harry, it smiled, showing Harry its razor-sharp teeth. At first, Harry was terrified. But then he looked at the creature's eyes, and Harry didn't see any malice or ill intent. Instead, Harry saw a calm happiness, and suddenly the creature seemed much more human. Harry knew it was Tom. Harry knew that his magic had worked, and Tom was alive again.

"No one can see me but you," Tom told Harry, making room for him on the bed. "I tried asking your relatives where you were and they walked right through me."

"Why?" Harry breathed, still intently studying Tom's young but not-human face.

"Because it was your magic that fed me, so now it's part of me, and I'm a part of you. I'm not solid or alive or anything, though. I would have to completely drain you of your magic to regain myself."

"But you didn't?" Harry asked.

Tom smiled, and again his sharp teeth flashed. "Of course not, Harry. If your magic was drained, you would die. Your death would be a waste? I'm sorry you had to go to the hospital, though."

It didn't matter to Harry. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd ended up in the hospital for a month. He was only glad to see his friend, to hear his voice, to _have_ someone.

Tom didn't appear quiet as Harry thought he would. After years of building Tom in his imagination, the idea Harry had created of him was god-like. To see Tom looking so normal (despite the haunting eyes and claw-like fingers) gave Harry the most wonderful feeling in the world. In his mind, Tom had always been ten feet tall, with an unearthly glow around him (although the glow from his red eyes was just as unearthly). He was far less human than Harry imagined, but he was still somehow perfect.

As time continued to pass, Harry found that Tom knew just what to say when Harry was upset, he still knew how to help Harry with his school work and with his magic, and he still knew how to talk to Harry when Harry was bored. And now, with his new body, he knew just when to smile, too.

**Annoying ****Note: ****So ****there's ****the ****first ****chapter! ****I ****hope ****the ****story****s ounds ****interesting ****so ****far. ****Review, ****please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Annoying note- Just so you know, in this story, the Tom that was put into the journal was only about 17 or 18 years old when he began to split his soul into pieces.**

**Oh! And there are spoilers! I'm going to talk about spoilers right now! So if you haven't read the 6th book, back off.**

**Anyway, I figured that when making the Horcrux, the process splits your soul in half, right? So this is the first horcrux that Voldamort made, and therefore contains one entire half of his soul. After that, he kept cutting what soul he had left in his body in half until the seventh soul was only, like, 1/162 of a whole soul or something similar to this (I haven't really done the math for cutting your soul in half 7 times. I'm just throwing out a random number that sounds scary). So I figure that one reason Voldamort is so insane is because he barely has any soul to him. Therefore, since my Tom is made of one entire half of a soul, he isn't going to be as insane as the final piece of Voldie's soul. I know that if I really wanted to follow the books, he would be insane because he had no heart to begin with, but this is my story, so I'll write Tom with a heart if I very well want to.**

**Now that that's out of the way, enjoy the story!**

Almost 50 years. That's how long Tom was trapped in that damn journal. He was alone, left to his own thoughts and growing hopelessness, waiting for any sort of contact with someone outside his binding. It was only his luck that the first person to contact him was an incompetent idiot who thought Tom was some sort of spelled play-thing.

He gave Tom to some Muggles, intending to scare them and have a few laughs.

However, Tom didn't perform, and his station became permanent. Muggles were preferable to that man. After a while, however, Tom became lonely again. Tom sat on a shelf for two years, alone, before the journal was finally purchased.

At first, Tom hated it, living with a 4-year-old Muggle who couldn't even spell "today" correctly. But after a while, it became nice. The child didn't blubber on and amuse himself by writing profanities in the pages like his previous owner. The person who purchased Tom was innocent, drawing simple pictures and trying hard to practice writing out his entire name. He didn't know anything about the real world or how bad people could be. Or at least that's what Tom assumed.

Before speaking with the boy, Tom spent days debating the pros and cons of making contact with a Muggle child. Tom knew the boy was suspicious of something, because his assignments kept disappearing, and Tom anticipated trouble if the boy should alert an adult. Even Muggles warned their children not to speak to strangers, didn't they?

However, after Tom spoke to the child, he regretted it. The boy started scribbling all over the book, and Tom's pages, his thoughts and memories, were a mess. The boy became so excited Tom feared he would tell an adult.

In the end, though, it was worth it. Tom's existence became a little more interesting. The boy started telling Tom stories about the outside world beyond the shelf where he was kept. Given, those stories were about the world of a 4-year-old boy. Soon, though, they were the stories about a 5-year-old. And then they were about a 6-year-old. Then, suddenly, the stories were about a Muggle-born wizard.

Tom decided that he had to be the luckiest being in existence.

The boy was a _wizard_.

Suddenly, Tom had a means to escaping his prison and rejoining the world of the living – because obviously, things weren't going so well for his other soul if the journal had been lost among the Muggles.

But also, Harry was no longer only a pathetic Muggle who was mostly useful as entertainment.

Tom immediately recognized how alike he and Harry were. What made them different was that Harry wasn't spiteful of the people around him. Tom told him about his own experiences, and Harry became weary of people, yes, but he still held respect for them. Even Harry's relatives were only considered with distaste rather than distain.

Tom envied Harry for the respect which he demonstrated so easily. Tom envied the fact that Harry could still look his Muggle relatives in the eyes without feeling a soul-splitting need for revenge.

A part of Tom wanted to crush the boy's tolerance from him, but… but Tom recognized that the two would then be _too_ similar.

By the time Tom learned of Harry's magical ability, Harry had grown somewhat _dependent_ of Tom. Tom was literally his entire world. Tom's life was his life, because the child had _no_ connection with any other beings. Truthfully, Tom had grown to appreciate the time and attention Harry gave him. Before, Tom always thought that after he regained his body and overtook the wizarding world, he'd keep Harry as a sort of Muggle pet or showpiece, and he'd allow Harry a minor honor within his services for keeping Tom sane. And _after_, Tom because comfortable with the idea that Harry could be with him during his triumph, Harry could help. Tom became comfortable with the idea of Harry as a friend and companion.

With Tom revealed as a wizard, he felt like he could _really_ trust Harry. Tom had never had a relationship like that before, where he didn't have to worry about someone's opinion of him when he told them about his past, his upbringing, or his plans for the wizarding world. But it was different with Harry. Tom had already given him a lot of himself, even though the boy was a Muggle. After it became apparent he was actually a wizard, it was easy to share _everything_ with Harry.

There was only one problem. Harry was far too nice. He was young, and he was naïve, and Tom knew Harry would become angry with his ideas for reforming the wizarding world.

So Tom began to reform Harry, first. It wasn't hard. Harry had very few friends, and he knew Tom was all he had. And that made it easy. He taught Harry to blame his relatives. Tom taught him to blame his teachers and schoolmates, to an extent. Tom taught him to that those people were all Muggles, and it was their fault because they wouldn't understand, couldn't understand.

And of course, Tom backed those opinions with stories of the wizarding world – the old wizarding world, where everyone knew their place and acted accordingly. Then, Tom told Harry about how those things had changed, and how they no longer knew their place.

During all this, Harry became so attached to Tom that hecould feel Harry willing him his energy. To an extent, it insured that Tom became dependent on Harry, as well. When he'd gone decades without contact with other people or other magic, the small doses of magic Harry sent him were almost addicting.

Although Tom worked hard to make Harry distrustful of people, Tom didn't want to destroy what was good in the kid. Thus, despite his best efforts, Tom only succeeded in making Harry wary of people, but not outright suspicious of them. It was okay, though. Tom liked that hewas still a sweet kid, and he was kind. Growing up, and in Slytherin, Tom was always surrounded by destruction and mal intent. Harry was like a breath of fresh air.

Harry was powerful, as well. Tom began teaching him magic almost immediately after he learned of his ability. It gave Tom a chance to see and understand his magic. And wow, did the kid have a lot of it. He often practiced the power chants Tom taught him- the chants which would help Harry sense and control his energy. Harry wasn't too good at that part. The magic filled Harry so completely, the boy didn't truly have anything else to compare it to. Tom debated teaching Harry to focus that energy, but he had so much magic, the powerful chants required to direct energy without a wand would probably get the house blown up.

After gaining an understanding of the situation, Tom began to form a strategy. He wanted out, but he needed to be inconspicuous for a while. Tom loved that he could depend on Harry, but he was tired of being _absolutely_ dependent on the child. Tom wanted free movement, so he could go everywhere, see everything, and help Harry through his years at Hogwarts. He wanted to encourage Harry to make friends with the right people, and Tom wanted to teach Harry everything he knew. Then, after he graduated, Harry could assist Tom in rising to power.

Escaping the journal was something Harry could easily help him with. The boy was already powerful. He was already directing energy towards Tom on a regular basis. It was only a matter of teaching Harry to truly focus his magic in the right way.

Then, Tom could be Harry's shadow during Hogwarts. Tom could guide him and be with him during the most important years of his life. He could help Harry be happy and comfortable in a way Tom never was.

It's sad, that someone as great and as powerful as Tom was preparing to spend years of his time and energy on a child.

By the time Harry was nine, Tom knew he was ready to give him a bit of the magic he needed.

They did it while his family was out to dinner.

And it was amazing; the feeling of magic flowing into his spirit for the first time in almost half a century was wondrous. It was a magic Tom ached for and often dreamed of. The magical pull was unlike any spell I'd ever preformed – and being young, ambitious student, Tom had experienced a lot.

But then it went bad. Harry enjoyed the feeling, too. Tom hadn't prepared Harry for the feeling of his own magic, and he got excited. He began to send Tom great surges of energy, and if felt like Tom was drowning in it. Tom hadn't experienced that kind of magic in far too long to be able to tolerate what Harry was giving him. The child had more power than Tom had imagined. What he'd seen during the chants was only the tip of Harry's magic and power. Tom began to fear that Harry was giving him all of his magic, and if he did, then he would die.

Finally, Tom pulled himself together. Tom gathered the magic now coursing through him, and he took a solidified human form.

It was as Tom had feared. Harry had given him too much magic. Tom's form wasn't only a wisp, as he had intended. Tom had a _body_, something solid and real.

He jerked the journal from Harry, and the boy collapsed. He would have died if Tom hadn't immediately begun the chant again, reversing the magic.

Quickly, Tom put his hand over Harry's heart, forcing some of the magic back into the boy. Tom only stopped when he felt Harry's heart beating good and hard under his hand. Harry was still unconscious, but Tom was confident he would be fine.

Harry's relatives returned soon after. When his uncle was unable to wake him, the man rushed him to the hospital.

The next few days were tense. The loss of Harry's presence wasn't nearly as agonizing and painful as splitting his own soul in half, yet Tom felt as if part of his soul was gone (little did Tom know). It was strange, being separated from Harry when they had been nothing but together for years.

Then Harry came back looking perfectly healthy. For the first time, Tom saw his friend's face. Tom imagined his reaction to Harry was a father's reaction to seeing his baby for the first time. Harry was malnourished and tiny, something Tom had expected. But he was also perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom hated his family just as much as Harry did. Tom played mean tricks on them during the night, where he turned their sheets cold or made their hair wet. He once guided several spiders to crawl into the sheets on Vernon's side of the bed after the man sent Harry to the cupboard without dinner.

Tom played a lot of mean tricks. Not only on Harry's family, either. Tom was restless, and he loved a good laugh (especially if it was at someone else's expense). Tom admitted that half of the things he did were childish and immature, but in his defense, Harry was a child and had childish humor, and he never wanted to do anything truly mean. Therefore, their pranks were small. And besides, while Tom did have some magic, it was very weak, and he could never do anything particularly grand.

Tom hated not having magic. He said he felt like a squib. Harry thought that was why Tom was always so restless. He liked to feel like he had control, and without magic or even a solid form, he couldn't achieve the control he desired.

Tom having a corporal form was better than writing in the journal, though. It was nice, having someone around who always met Harry when he arrived home from school, someone who was sympathetic towards him and wanted to take care of him. Tom liked helping Harry, and he liked it when Harry was happy.

Harry loved that he had a friend like Tom. Those days before Hogwarts, those days when it felt like Tom and Harry were the only two sane people in the world, those were the best.

Of course, it didn't last forever. They only had a few simple years together before the Hogwarts letters began appearing around the house, and Harry's life became suddenly uncomfortable.

His relatives became hostile, like how they were before Tom came.

They thought Harry didn't know about magic. Tom had always warned Harry about telling anyone about him, first because his relatives would think Harry had mental problems if he told them about how Harry spoke to someone who wasn't there, but then because in the magical world, he would get in trouble for the exact same thing.

It was the beginning of one of Tom's most important lessons: Harry should never allow anyone to understand his true potential or ability. And having a friend who no one else saw and who was almost always present and whispering in his ear was something no one needed to know about.

One evening, Harry heard his aunt and uncle arguing. Harry had been drawing in Tom's journal while Tom sat at the end of the cot reading a book Harry had nicked from the store. Harry was surprised by the fight. He had never heard his aunt and uncle yell at each other before.

"I don't care who said it! I don't want his kind in this house!" Harry faintly heard. Tom heard it, too, and he gently put his book down. Harry recognized the voice as Uncle Vernon. Quickly, Aunt Petunia spoke up.

"You don't understand! You didn't have to live with one your entire life! You didn't see what she was like when she came back from that place. We have to do as they say, Vernon. They're monsters. While she still lived with us, she got a newspaper for people like her. You should have seen some of the stories, some of the pictures. I don't want to imagine what they could do to his Dudley if we didn't do as they said!"

"How would they know? Do they even care? They've never popped in before, have they?"

"Vernon, please. Don't be irrational. They have ways-"

Their voices finally faded, and Harry poked Tom. His friend took the hint and quickly passed through the wall and into the kitchen, where the voices had initially sounded. A moment latter, he came back and said, "They've stopped talking," very quietly.

"Were they talking about me?" Harry asked.

Tom snorted, "Don't be stupid, Harry. Of course they were." He didn't say it in a mean way, though, and he put a comforting hand over his forearm as he sat next to Harry on the old cot.

Harry wondered what his relatives meant. Who would know what? What place? What did Aunt Petunia have to do? What would happen if she didn't do as "they" said?

His aunt and uncle's paranoia came to a head when they locked Harry in his cupboard for an entire week. This didn't seem to bring his relatives much peace, though, because Harry could hear them pacing and fighting beyond the thin walls of his room.

Then, Tom managed to snag one of the dozen letters sent to Harry before Vernon could get to it. When Harry was about halfway through the letter, Tom was finishing it. He had seen the same letter seven times already, but as he finished this letter, he gasped and let out a low curse, using a word Harry didn't need to hear.

Startled, Harry looked at him and asked, "What? What's wrong?"

"Dumbledore! He's the headmaster! I was sure the old bastard would be dead by now!"

Harry quickly scanned the letter, and sure enough, there was Dumbledore's name at the bottom of the letter.

Tom was more restless than ever after he found out that Dumbledore was the headmaster of the school. He paced around the house, and one time, while the Dursleys were out, Harry could hear him knocking things around upstairs.

Then, one night, Harry was asleep when he heard a loud bang upstairs. Uncle Vernon's paranoia had become so bad that he had taken to sleeping with a shot gun next to him in bed. Tom decided to relieve some of the tension he felt by playing a trick on his uncle, and Vernon shot out a mirror.

After that, the Dursley's behavior reverted to a more normal attitude. They let Harry out of his cupboard, at least. One day, they even asked if Harry wanted to go on a vacation to the sea. When Harry said no, they canceled the trip. What surprised Harry more than anything was that they had asked Harry's opinion instead of Dudley's.

Harry soon became suspicious of their odd behavior. The entire family had been jumpy for almost a month. Harry found himself unable to understand or predict their behavior, and it made him nervous. Then, with Tom's erratic behavior tacked on, Harry found himself just as wound up as everyone else in the house.

And then the big day came. His birthday.

Harry had done a lot of gardening that day and was more or less dead to the world when the living room clock chimed midnight. However, Tom never slept.

Tom remembered what happened on his 11th birthday, so when a giant appeared on the door step of Private Drive, he was alert and waiting to see what would happen.

Harry woke up to a thunderous crash and bolted upright in his cot. The first thing that registered in his sleep-filled mind was Tom, who was sitting by his feet, laughing. Next, Harry heard the now familiar sound of his uncle's shot gun going off. Startled, Harry jumped and fell against his cupboard door, and it fell open. This was odd, because the Dursleys had begun to lock Harry in at night to try and keep him from messing with them while they slept (which of course Harry wasn't really doing). Harry fell to the ground and peered towards the front door as he watched a giant break the banister in a fit of rage.

Everything after that was a blur. Despite his rude awakening, Harry never fully woke up. He spent the night in a semi-unconscious daze as the giant Hagrid gave his uncle a sound tongue lashing about the state of Harry's living conditions. His only true memory of the night was leaving the house with Tom and Hagrid. As Hagrid essentially carried Harry from the house, his uncle yelled, "If you leave, then you aren't welcome back!" Aunt Petunia felt the same way as she looked at the ruined front wall of her house, where a giant had created his own door.

The next morning, Harry woke up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Tom sat next to him, his legs crossed and one of his clawed hands supporting his chin.

"Where am I?" Harry asked drowsily as he sat up and rubbed at a bruise forming against his side. It took Harry a moment to realize it had probably occurred while he was falling out of his cupboard the previous night.

"We're in a wizard tavern in London. It's called The Leaky Cauldron. Hagrid got you the room," Tom explained, suddenly looking at his hands and playing with the ring that always sat on his corporal finger.

After studying Tom, Harry turned his eyes to the sparse room around him, and he asked, "Whose Hagrid?"

At this, Tom snorted, "An idiot. One of the biggest idiots you'll ever meet."

Harry finally remembered the night before and the man who had rescued him from his relative's house. The man was rather oafish, but still. "I like him," Harry told Tom. Hagrid was friendly whenever he spoke directly to Harry, and he vaguely remembered the giant trying to feed Harry some soup before he sent Harry to bed.

Tom shook his head. "You _would_ like the spineless sap."

"Do you know him?" Harry asked Tom, standing so he could stretch his sore muscles. Gardening always did that. Harry found that it was a good kind of sore, not like the sore Harry was when Uncle Vernon gripped his arm a little too roughly, or when Dudley shoved Harry against a wall.

"Remember how I told you about finding the giant snake inside the school?" Tom asked Harry.

He nodded. It was one of Harry's favorite stories.

Harry went to the window and peered at the street. His eyes widened when he saw the bustling crowd beneath the tavern. They were wizards. Harry could tell. And the shops, those were wizarding shops. Harry squinted his eyes, trying to make out the writing on the signs above the doors.

"Well Hagrid's the one I framed after that girl died. He was even arrested."

"Can I get a pet?" Harry asked Tom excitedly. "There's a pet shop down there! I can see it! There are animals in front of the shop!"

Tom shrugged, "As long as it's not a giant spider."

It took Harry a moment to realize that Tom was making a mean reference to Hagrid, so Harry threw a pillow at his head. Of course, the pillow only went through him, but that was okay. He made his point.

Harry began looking for his trainers, so that he could go out and explore. Tom watched Harry for a moment before leaning back and saying, "They're under the bed."

Harry gave him a thankful grin before diving under the bed and grabbing his shoes.

"Did you have a pet?" Harry asked Tom.

"I still have one," Tom said as he stood from the bed, changing his illusion-clothes with a snap of his finger. He straitened the color of his crisp button-up shirt before putting his hands behind his back and looking at Harry pointedly.

"Oh. Yeah. The basilisk," Harry said when his brain caught up with the conversation. Harry had to admit, he wasn't at his sharpest that morning, but he couldn't help it. After all, Harry was _finally__seeing__the__wizarding__world_!

As Harry studied Tom, he became suddenly jealous. Tom looked nice (the real word for it was handsome, but Harry was only 11 at the time) and almost regal as he stood in a button up shirt, pressed slacks, and shining leather shoes which may have been out of date, but were elegant all the same. Then, Harry thought that of course Tom would have control over something like a basilisk. The only way Harry would ever be able to possess that sort of control would be if he could train a dragon. And even then, Tom could actually _talk_ and _communicate_ with the Basilisk, and Harry would never have the ability to talk to a dragon. Nor would he ever look_elegant_ or _regal_. Even the curls in Tom's hair were neat.

Of course, the image of his neat shirt and perfect curls was somewhat deterred by glowing red eyes and clawed fingers, but those features just made Tom's immaculate appearance all the more unfair.

"Well?" Tom asked, "Are we going or not?"

"How do we get into the alley?" Harry asked him. Tom had once told Harry the name of the wizarding area, but Harry had quickly forgotten it in favor of stories about Hogwarts.

"Come on, the entry's downstairs." Tom flicked his wrist, motioning for Harry to grab his jacket from where it hung on the bed's banister, and Harry hurried to take the jacket and put it on.

After slipping on his jacket, Harry stood in front of Tom so he could inspect Harry's appearance as Harry asked, "Was there a pet shop here when you were my age?"

"Of course," Tom said patiently, "There was also an egg shop." He studied Harry's rumpled outfit and frowned at his hair. Hagrid had been in a hurry to get Harry out of the house, so he didn't have any fresh clothes packed. Therefore, Tom couldn't say anything. His disapproval of Harry's hair glanced off his shoulders, as it always did, because he was an 11-year-old boy, and Harry didn't have the time, the patience, or the energy to _style_ it, like a girl would do.

When Tom's previous statement caught up with his overexcited mind, Harry laughed loudly, "An egg shop? That seems stupid."

Tom grinned, "Everyone else thought so, too. Now there's an ice cream parlor, instead."

Harry realized that Tom had gone through the alley while he was asleep. Harry envied his inability to sleep. Harry wished he could do everything Tom did, but he seemed to do so much during the night.

Harry often found himself trying to catch up with Tom. But with some things, like exploring Diagon Alley, Harry was all too happy when it came time to race after him.

**Annoying Note: I dont like the end of this chapter. However, I needed some sort of transition from one chapter to the next rather than the abrupt chapter end that was here before, so there you go. **

**Thanks for reading! I hope the revisions so far are helping the story along. Personally, I feel like I'm saying Harry and Tom's names too much. Its kind of strange to see how much the writing and style changes just by changing perspective. Gha. What a pain in the butt. A warning to the wise: Don't write in first person, unless you're journaling, of course. Just, just never write in first person. It's VERY inconvininet to have to go through and change all of your old stories when you realize how awkward and uncomfortable they are to read. **


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't waste your time, Harry," Tom said, pulling Harry away from the display case in front of the book store. The books were all about curses and jinxes, and the spells advertised on the front of the books sounded exactly like what Harry needed for Dudley (if Harry ever saw him again).

"But Tom-"

"Those two-bit spells are for idiots who don't understand magic and can't take care of themselves. I can teach you all you need to know about dueling."

Harry didn't want to duel. He wanted to play mean tricks on his cousin. He wanted to see him cry just _once_, and he didn't mean those fake alligator tears Dudley always gave his mother. _J__ust__once_, he wanted to see him upset the way Harry was always upset.

Finally, Harry sighed and followed Tom inside the store. Tom's eyes darted around the store, studying the section labels and titles. He said, "It's changed since I've been here. There used to be an entire section reserved for the Dark Arts in the corner over there. There was nothing really powerful, of course, but there were a lot of great spells for protection, and a few basic elemental spells. People had to go to Knockturn Alley for the _real_ dark magic." Absently, he said, "I hope the good spells in Knockturn haven't been replaced by the little spells they kicked out of this place. That would be a shame."

As Harry stood in the middle of the store, feeling lost, Tom slowly strode between the isles, inspecting the books.

"Those bloody narrow-minded idiots. They've gotten rid of everything on the Dark Arts! Even the theory!" Tom hissed as he passed by Harry.

"It's not like we can't learn anything productive from regular spell books," Harry said quietly, mindful of the crowded shop. His eyes darted to the front of the store to make sure no one though he was talking to himself.

In the Muggle world, when he was younger, Harry had often received weird looks for talking to someone who wasn't there. His family sometimes thought he was crazy.

Tom mumbled, "Maybe they can-"

"Harry! There ya are! Been worried sick about ya! Tom told me ya'd gone! How'd you get inta the alley?"

"Tell him someone from the pub showed you how to get in," Tom absently told Harry while still scanning the names of the books closest to them.

"A man showed me," Harry told Hagrid.

Hagrid nodded, "And what are ya doin' in here? I 'avent taken ya to the bank yet ta get yer money."

"I have money?" Harry asked as Hagrid led him from the store. Tom followed, still scowling at the book shop.

"Of course ya have money! Where did ya think yer parents kept it all?" Hagrid made a sweeping motion to the large tilted building at the end of the alley.

"Why would my parents have money in a wizard's bank?"

"Why would they- Harry ! Has'n anyone told ya?"

"Told me what?"

"Yer parents were wizards!"

Tom suddenly sighed, "Thank Merlin! And here I thought you were a Muggle-born!"

Harry sent Tom a scowl. Harry knew his friend wasn't fond of Muggles, but he didn't understand how deep those negative feelings for them ran. Tom had always cared for Harry, and he knew how important he was to Tom. It bothered Harry to know Tom thought so much of him being a Muggle-born.

Tom truly wasn't too surprised to learn of Harry's heritage. His own mother was a witch, after all, and he didn't find out until he was 11, either. Apparently, orphaned children left unknowing of their heritage was a common issue in the wizarding world.

But Harry was shocked.

"But they couldn't have been," Harry told Hagrid, "My aunt and uncle would have told me something like that, I'm sure!"

Hagrid stopped walking for a moment, and his expression made Harry think of a large child with a beard as he studied him. Hagrid didn't speak or argue with Harry as he began to lead Harry towards the wizard bank. Instead, he gave Harry time to digest the information and allow the idea to catch up with him. When they were inside the bank, he immediately asked for a private room.

They were led down a quiet hall by one of the goblins, and they paused outside a discrete door while the goblin gathered his keys. Harry was surprised when Tom laid a gentle hand on his arm. The soft breeze of Tom's non-existent touch was familiar, but he only ever touched Harry like that when he was separating from him.

"I'm going to go and check on something in alley," he told Harry briefly, "It will take a while, so I'll probably meet back up with you at the room."

Harry wanted to argue. He wanted Tom to stay with him while Hagrid told Harry about his parents. However, Harry couldn't argue with someone who wasn't there in front of Hagrid and the goblins, so he took a moment to gather himself and draw energy from Tom's ghost-like touch before giving his friend a brief nod. Tom nodded back to him, then began traveling back the way they came, his footsteps silent.

The Goblins brought a large bench for Hagrid to sit on once they were inside the room, and they set it on the other side of the table, across from Harry.

"Harry, 'm not completely prepared fer this. I never thought I'd be the one ta tell ya," Hagrid began.

* * *

Harry wished Tom had been there. It would have been easier, then. As Harry sat, mortified, he wondered where his friend was. "Check on something," he'd said. Harry didn't know where to find him, he didn't know where to look, and Harry wanted nothing more than to see his face, to receive some comforting words. What could Tom be doing? "Check on something," he'd said. What could he be checking on? Surely it couldn't be something he'd left behind before he'd split his soul. Tom had only been seventeen when he was bound to the journal, he was still a student at Hogwarts. What could he possibly have to "check on" in Diagon Alley?

Harry's parents were murdered. Someone had tried to kill him. Harry should be dead. The murderer was still alive. He was still out there, and he was looking for him. Surely that was more important than having to "check on something."

Harry was only truly upset about Tom's absence for a short while. Hagrid was good at distracting him. The giant was a friendly face, he spoke about friendly things, and when he set his overly large palm on Harry's back, the weight was comforting and warm.

First, Hagrid took Harry to his parent's bank vault. The bank was the first thing about the wizarding world which impressed Harry. Tom had already told Harry about everything else- The school, the ministry, the hospital. Harry guess Tom wouldn't know much about Gringotts because he was a poor orphaned boy whose parents hadn't left him a fortune. Why would Tom have any use for a bank?

Hagrid made Harry feel even better after the bank. He immediately took Harry to buy his wand. Harry already knew a few tiny little spells, but feeling the wand in his hand made Harry feel safe. Of course, Harry was immediately thrown back into his new-found fear when Mr. Olivander told Harry that his wand's brother belonged to the man who killed him, but even that couldn't completely destroy the comforting thrill of holding his very own wand.

"Go ahead and rest, Harry," Hagrid told Harry after they left the wand shop, "We'll get the rest of yer supplies tomorrow. I still need ta take this um... special Hogwarts business to Mr. Dumbledore. I guess ya can go into the alley and look around sum more, but don't go into the Muggle world. An' tell Tom where yer goin' before ya leave, yeah?"

Harry nodded and Hagrid gave Harry the key to his vault.

"Take care, Harry," Hagrid told him. He gave Harry's shoulder another solid, comforting pat, and then he pushed Harry towards his room.

When Harry reached his room, he collapsed face first onto his mattress. His morning had been an emotional mess between the excitement of seeing the wizarding world, the horror and sudden anger he felt about the truth of his parents death, and receiving his wand. Now, all Harry wanted was the comfort of the bed, and the comfort of his friend Tom.

**The ****story ****that ****Hagrid ****told ****Harry ****was ****the ****same ****as ****in ****the ****HP ****books- ****About ****Voldamort ****and ****all ****that. ****We ****all ****know ****the ****story ****and****i t****would ****have****been ****a ****waste ****of ****time ****to ****write ****it ****into ****this ****story- ****I ****don't ****know ****about ****you ****guys, ****but ****I ****hate ****it ****when ****people ****tell ****us ****about ****things ****we ****already ****know-****That's ****the ****whole ****reason ****fanfiction ****is ****great: ****you ****don't ****have ****to ****take ****too ****much ****time ****describing ****the ****characters ****or ****the ****situation ****because ****EVERYONE ****ALREADY ****KNOWS**_**, **_**so ****we ****don't ****need ****to ****go ****around ****repeating ****it ****all ****again, ****do ****we? ****Sheesh, ****I'm ****getting ****off ****track.**

**Thanks for reading! Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

"-so now that man is still out there. He doesn't have much power or anything, but Hagrid says he's just laying low until he has a chance to come at me," Harry said, taking a long breath. The story still sounded strange and surreal, even when Harry was the one explaining it. It just didn't seem... right.

"Why would anyone want to kill you, though? Especially when you were only a baby?" Tom asked, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows as he considered the situation. He stood from where he sat on the bed and began to pace across the floor.

Harry blinked in surprise, then he had to think for a moment as well. "I'd never thought of that. I guess... didn't he just go to kill me parents, then he decided to kill me, as well? Hagrid said he was bad, and kind of crazy. So... if he was crazy, he'd just go around killing kids, wouldn't he?"

Tom groaned in a show of annoyance. "Why would he be so intent on killing you if you were just an afterthought to your parents? It means something that you survived a Dark wizard's killing curse," Tom lightly cursed, and Harry saw how frustrated he was becoming. Tom never liked it when he didn't understand something. "So did Hagrid tell you anything about the guy? Where he was from? What was he after? Did Hagrid even tell you his name? I bet the oaf didn't. He never was the smartest-"

"Tom, don't be so mean. Of course Hagrid told me his name. It was Voldemort."

Tom stooped pacing. He stared at Harry with wide red eyes, and any trace of frustration or confusion fell from his face.

"What did you say?" he asked quietly.

"Voldemort. But people are so scared of him they don't even like to say his name and-"

An odd sound came from Tom's throat- a low moan, and he stumbled to sit next to Harry on the bed.

"Tom?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm Voldemort. Harry, I'm Voldemort. It's my nickname."

Harry blinked at his friend. "No you're not."

Tom shook his head and looked at his hands, his eyes still wide. The expression gave him a hopeless appearance. "Yes I am. Some friends and I made up nicknames while we were in our second year and-"

"You're not Voldemort," Harry repeated, louder this time.

Tom looked up from his hands, and his eyes seemed darker, almost black, the color of blood. "How would you know?" Tom asked. "You were only a baby when it happened. You couldn't possibly remember."

"Yeah, but..." Harry didn't know what to say. Harry was sure that Tom couldn't be Voldemort. Voldemort killed his parents. And Tom was the only friend Harry had. Tom wasn't crazy. Voldemort was. It was that simple.

"But Voldamort is still out there somewhere, and you're...right here," Harry finally reasoned.

Was Tom Voldemort? Had he _really_ been trapped in that journal? Or had he been following Harry around since he was a baby, waiting for a time when he could get close to Harry and attack? Only Harry could see him. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone about him. Harry couldn't exactly run or hide from him; Harry didn't know how. What if his relationship with Tom was a huge trap?

"Don't look at Harry like that, Harry," Tom quietly demanded.

What if Tom was lying? About everything?

But then he wouldn't have told Harry he was Voldemort. He would allow Harry to believe he was only some kid named Tom who was trapped in a journal, completely separate from the guy who tried to kill Harry and _had_ killed his parents.

What if he was using Harry? What if he was, was taking Harry's magic while he slept or something? What if he was just trying to find a way to drain Harry of his energy and then kill him?

But if he was trying to kill Harry, wouldn't he have done it by now?

Harry didn't know what to do, and neither did Tom. They spent the whole afternoon arguing, unsure of what to do with this new knowledge, unsure of how they were supposed to react. Tom said he would never hurt Harry, but then again, another part of his soul had tried to kill him when Harry was a baby. And even though they were separate, they were still the same person, right?

Harry hated not knowing what to do. And Tom hated the distrust in Harry's eyes. After just a few hours, he lost his temper and he left. Harry didn't see him again for three weeks. During this time, Harry tried to reason out some sort of conclusion.

Those three weeks were horrible. Half the time, Harry was afraid of his own shadow. He didn't know where Tom was. He didn't know if his friend was the one that killed his parents. Harry didn't know if Tom was following him during that time or if he had truly left. When Harry wasn't paranoid, he was distraught. Even if he couldn't trust Tom, Harry still needed him. He was the only person Harry had ever had. What would Harry do without him? How was Harry supposed to trust _anyone_ if Harry couldn't trust Tom?

The day after Tom's confession, Hagrid took Harry to get the rest of his school supplies, as planned. Harry hadn't slept much the night before, and he hadn't eaten much for breakfast. Hagrid could tell something was wrong. He tried to get Harry to talk to him, but Harry wouldn't. He couldn't. After Hagrid realized that Harry wouldn't talk, he took Harry to get a present. He took Harry to the menagerie. Hagrid said that the right animals had a way of calming people down and making them feel better. He said that it was a true proven fact, and he would give Harry an owl for his birthday. Harry followed him around the pet store, looking at all the animals. Harry thought of Tom, and his pet. For a moment, Harry wanted a snake, so he could be more like Tom. He even went so far as telling Hagrid that he would name one Sal if he got one. Harry didn't tell him that Sal was his nickname for Salazar Slytherin. Tom would have liked it if Harry had named a snake after one of his favorite people in the world. But then Hagrid said that most magical snakes were dangerous and had bizarre poisons that were hard to counteract, so they were illegal to sell. Then, on top of Hagrid's explanation, Harry remembered that he still didn't know if he could trust Tom, so Harry decided he shouldn't get anything which might link them in such a way.

So Hagrid gave Harry an owl, as planned. Don't get the wrong idea, the owl that Harry decided on naming Hedwig was beautiful, but he wanted the hawk-owl. It was large and powerful, and it didn't stand out so much. Hagrid told Harry a lot of important people had hawk-owls, and they were commonly used to transport larger packages, so hawk-owls were commonly used. The white owl stood out like a boulder in a flat, grassy field. And if there was one thing Tom had warned Harry against, it was standing out.

Harry could live with Hagrid's choice for a bird, though. Hedwig was very beautiful, and she was very smart.

When Harry took Hedwig back to the Leaky Cauldron, he found that Hagrid was right. Hedwig did calm Harry. Her soft cooing helped put him to sleep at night, and she briefly made Harry forget to worry about Tom.

Finally, Harry came to the conclusion to trust Tom. He came to this conclusion after remembering one little snag in every argument Harry tried to make: Tom never hurt him. There had been plenty of chances for him to give Harry a little shove down some stairs, or he could have set Harry on fire while he was cooking a greasy dinner, or he even could have held a pillow over Harry while he was sleeping. However, there was one specific occasion which came to mind and made Harry confident: Tom could have killed Harry while he was helping release Tom from the journal. He could have easily taken all of the magic Harry gave to him. Then, Harry would be dead, and Tom would have a physical body again, and he could do magic. If he really had any intent to hurt or kill Harry, he would have done it then, and he would have gotten his life back.

When Harry finally came to this conclusion, all Harry had to do was turn around, and Tom was there. Harry found out that his friend hadn't left Harry by himself. Instead, he sat down in the bar and patiently waited for Harry to come to his own conclusion about their friendship.

While Harry was happy that Tom had given him some space to work it out for himself, Harry was even happier to learn that Tom had never actually left.


	6. Chapter 6

Things remained a little tense between Tom and Harry for a few days after they made up. Although neither was any longer upset, they had never had a falling out before, and they didn't know how to go about getting comfortable again. Harry didn't go to Hogwarts for another week, though, so they had time to themselves.

Tom said that the situation would be easier if they understood who Voldemort really was and why he had tried to kill the Potters. The two decided they needed to research Voldemort so they could understand what they were up against.

Finding information on the Dark sorcerer wasn't difficult. All they had to do was visit the book shop. Tom and Harry found three books on Voldemort and his rise to power within five minuets. As Harry bought the three books, the cashier spotted his scar and gasped. Her eyes flickered from his scar to the books Harry had purchased as she bagged them. Harry didn't appreciate her gaze, and he made sure their hands didn't touch as the bag was pushed towards him. Then, Harry hurried back to his room above the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon looking over the three books. Soon, they had gathered a basic understanding of the Dark Lord. Tom said, "This sounds like he has the same ideas of reform as me, but..."

"You would never attack purebloods, would you?" Harry asked as he frowned at a very... colorful drawing of a battle scene. It was titled "The Dark Lord's Attack on Diagon Alley." The book listed five purebloods who died in the attack, and that was without mentioning other casualties.

Tom looked over his shoulder and flinched. "I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to attack them, like he seems to have done. You won't understand until you're older, Harry, but sometimes reform needs war. However… the war he waged seems very… unnecessary."

Harry made a face at Tom's answer. "You aren't planning for a war, are you?"

"Of course not," Tom answered while rolling his eyes. "But if it's required, I _will_ lead a war for the wizarding world. Our kind of… ideals will be difficult to presented to the current legislature. If wizards are to truly separate themselves from Muggles and flourish in a world of our own making, it has to be something _every_wizard wants, and right now there's too much Muggle influence in the government. That's what you and I are trying to do, Harry. We're trying to make everyone understand our ideas of reform, so that everyone will want it and the reform will work."

And then, of course, Tom went on a rant about blood and magic. Harry had heard the speech a hundred times before. He practically had it memorized himself.

"My blood, even your blood, is tainted with Muggle. Because of that taint, our magical abilities are weaker than they could be. What makes us weaker still is our distance from the magical community. Magic is a part of us, Harry, and we belong in magical communities. Instead, we were isolated in magicless Muggle communities and our magic is stifled. Then, as if the tainted blood and the distance from any magical community wasn't enough, you have to consider the fact that growing up with Muggles allows for the development of ideas and a general mindset unfavorable for performing magic."

This is where Harry began getting confused. Still, he knew not to interrupt Tom while he was ranting. Plus, Harry knew what Tom would say if he _did_ask. He'd say Harry was too young to understand, and that he didn't need to worry about it until he was older.

"This - this affinity for Muggles makes it difficult to immerse ourselves in the true nature of magic. Then, wizards are unable to relate to _each__other_, and so the magical community is growing weak and falling apart. The ancient sorcerers, Merlin, the four founders of Hogwarts, they were great because they lived in difficult, unhappy times, and they knew how the magical community needed to change in order become strong again. But knowing how to lead wizards isn't enough, Harry. True power is needed for that, and true power comes from _blood_. That's why no wizard has been as strong as Merlin, Harry. Merlin is only so famous because he was the last great wizard. There were dozens before him, and if we can rally and unify our brothers and sisters, we can have that magic again."

Even though Harry had heard the speech hundreds of times, Harry still didn't understand what Tom was talking about. Harry _did_ understand that it always came back to blood and power for Tom, but beyond that, Harry didn't understand what unification and Merlin and unhealthy mindsets had to do with anything. He believed in the segregation of Muggles and wizards just as much at Tom did, but Harry liked the idea of segregation because he didn't see how Muggles and wizards could ever understand each other. And if growing up with his aunt and uncle taught Harry anything, it was that peace can't exist without understanding.

Of course, Harry also didn't understand how Tom planned to accomplish this social reform. After hearing that Tom might want _war_, Harry wasn't sure how to react. Was war really necessary? Couldn't there be another way to help people see what needed to be done? Of course, Harry didn't know the answers to those questions. He was only an untrained, uneducated eleven-year-old boy, and surely Tom knew more than he did.

Still, Harry couldn't help but wonder... What would be done when a wizarding child was Muggleborn? They couldn't bar those children from the magical world. And what about Muggleborns who were already integrated into magical society? They couldn't just break their wands and go back off to live with Muggles, but they couldn't be asked to cut all ties with their families, either. Plus, Tom told Harry that although there were still purebloods, they were becoming fewer and harder to find. If they forced out all of the people with Muggle blood in them, they would barely have enough people left in the wizard community to run a proper bakery, let alone an entire political system, economy, and process of thought. So what kind of integration/segregation system was Tom talking about?

Harry sometimes tried to talk to Tom about it in more detail, but he always cut Harry off, saying he was too young, and he didn't need to worry about anything when he hadn't even started Hogwarts yet. In fact, he said Harry would probably have a couple years after Hogwarts to understand what was going on before acting on their plans.

"I want you to have a childhood, Harry. I spent his time in Hogwarts studying the differences between Muggle and wizard societies, and I talked about nothing but reform and a return to the old ways. I let something consume me, and it took all my time and energy. I want you to experience _something_ happy of Hogwarts. Understand, you'll have to work hard while you're in Hogwarts, and you'll still have you give up a lot of yourself, but I don't want you to completely forsake being a child, like I did. And then, when you're grown up and you really understand what I've always been telling you, then we can begin trying to make a difference in the world."

Harry didn't like the sound of giving anything of his childhood up, but he was with Tom in this whole business, and Harry would do what he could to help. And it wasn't like Tom was completely keeping Harry in the dark on things. His friend very clearly cared for him, and that positive reinforcement was all Harry need to follow Tom without question. He trusted that Tom would explain everything when he was older.

By the time Tom was done with his speech, it was time for dinner. Tom decided that Harry needed some fresh air since they'd been inside all day reading, so Harry ate dinner in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Tom left Harry as he ate the free ice-cream the shop owner had given me.

"I'm going to Knockturn Alley," he told me.

"Can't I go with you?" Harry asked.

"You shouldn't go until you're older. The sort that hang around there aren't usually so nice to little kids when they wonder around alone."

"But I wouldn't be alone!" Harry said loudly, unwilling to miss any new adventures with Tom.

Tom rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but they don't know that," he said, and nodded his head to his right. When Harry looked to where Tom had motioned, an older lady was giving Harry an odd stare.

"Are you all right dear?" She asked and Harry realized that in her eyes, Harry had just been yelling at no one.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry mumbled, "Just thinking out loud."

The woman gave Harry a doubtful look, but returned to eating her ice cream and reading her book. When Harry looked back at Tom, he was grinning, showing his pointed teeth. As he opened his mouth, Harry quietly mumbled, "Shut up."

"Don't worry, Harry. I know where I'm going. I scoped the alley out while you were in Gringots with Hagrid. I assure you, you aren't missing anything. I'll be back in a moment." He grinned again before trotting across the street, passing through several pedestrians as he found the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Harry watched him as he walked along the other side of the street before disappearing into the narrow opening between two buildings.

Harry sat patiently while watching the crowd around him. He saw a few children his age huddled near the Quidditch shop and briefly wondered if they would be going to school with him. His thoughts traveled along those lines and soon Harry was trying to picture the castle. Tom had told Harry many stories about the place and he liked to think he knew exactly what it looked like. Harry imagined the talking paintings and the moving staircases. He imagined the lake, and wondered if there was still a squid there.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts of Hogwarts that he didn't notice Tom until he practically ran into the table.

"Come on!" he said, "I nicked a book!"

Harry's eyes flew to empty hands. "Where is it?"

Tom scoffed, "Don't you think people would be a little suspicious of a floating book? Well, I mean, they weren't suspicious when I carried it through Knockturn Alley, but then the patrons in that alley are quite different from the patrons in this part of town. Now finish your ice cream and go get the book for me; I left it on the ground near a vendor."

Harry stood and started across the alley, wondering what Tom had stolen. He seemed very excited about whatever it was.

Soon, Harry spotted the book lying near a vendor selling trinkets. The book was covered in dust and was leaning discreetly against the side of a building.

But it wasn't lying there discreetly enough. Even as Harry picked up his pace and hurried towards the book, Harry saw someone else moving to pick it up. The man looked mean, and he was covered in filth. Harry knew he would never get the book back if the stranger reached it first, and he might even single Harry out on the crowded street.

"Get it, Harry!" Tom practically yelled, and Harry started running. Just as the man was about to reach the book, Harry dived in front of him and grabbed the tome from the ground. Harry held the dusty book to his chest and began to quickly move away from the man when he grabbed the back of Harry's shirt.

"An' just what do ya think your doin'? I saw it first!"

Tom appeared beside Harry, his fists clenched. He was grinding his teeth as he spoke, "Tell him you dropped it while your mum was buying a-" he looked at the vendor sitting a few feet away from us, "- a medallion."

"It's mine," Harry told the large man, "I dropped it while my mum-"

"What is it?" The man asked and grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his hand away from the cover.

Tom spoke, "Tell him it's one of your school books."

"It's for school. I told you, I dropped it," Harry said. The man was hurting his wrist. Harry tried to pull away from him.

"Stop moving," Tom said, "Merlin, we need to work on your lies. Don't show him you're scared. He can tell you're lying."

Harry blinked.

"Stop pulling against him," Tom said.

Harry did as Tom said.

"Stand up straight."

Once again, Harry did as Tom said.

"Now tell him to let you go. And be calm about it."

Harry could do that. After Harry calmed a little, the man didn't seem so scary.

He took a deep breath and said, "Sir, let me go."

"Look him in the eye and say it again," Tom demanded.

Harry did as Tom said- one of the man's eyelids was heavy, and it sagged low over his eye. "I said let me go."

The man dropped his wrist. Harry felt a swell of pride and confidence as he gripped the book more firmly against his chest.

Then, Harry watched as the man's eyes lifted from his face and refocused on something behind him.

"Get out a here," Hagrid gruffly demanded.

The man quickly shuffled past Harry and around the tall giant before disappearing into Knockturn Alley.

"Idiot," Tom mumbled, his eyes still narrowed at the Alley entrance.

"Are ya okay there, Harry?" Hagrid asked.

He nodded, "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Ya need ter be more careful 'round these parts, Harr . Not many people in Knockturn Alley would give ya a helping hand if ya got inta trouble," Hagrid said, nodding towards the alley's entrance a few meters away.

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, smiling at him.

Tom also grinned at him, "I guess that great lump isn't useless after all."


	7. Chapter 7

When Tom and Harry got back to their room, Harry finally took a good look at the book which Tom had stolen. He was dismayed to find nothing on the binding to indicate what the book was about.

"You stole this?" Harry asked Tom, turning the worn book around in his hands. Harry found no markings, only a few scratches and dings on the worn leather cover.

"Yeah, I did," Tom said, a bright smile stretching across his lips.

"Why? I could have just gone and bought it."

"You don't want to be found with this book. I found it in a bookstore's private office. I suspect it was too dangerous to sell in even Knockturn Alley. The owner probably had it just to have it."

"Is it about blood magic?" Harry pressed. That was the only really horrible thing he could think of, and Harry figured it was the only thing which couldn't be sold even in Knockturn Alley.

"No," Tom told me. "This is a private record and log kept by one of Voldemort's Death Eaters."

"What's a Death Eater?" Harry asked, turning the book over in his hands again.

"It was what Voldemort's followers were called," Tom explained. He gently pushed Harry towards the bed so they could sit next to each other and study the book.

"So this book is just a bunch of notes about Voldemort and his followers?"

"These aren't 'just a bunch of notes,' Harry. It's a record. In this book, there's a list of Voldemort's trusted followers and supporters. There are lists of people who publicly and vocally supported him, there are lists of people who never actually joined his services, but who donated money or magic to his cause. And these lists go beyond people's names. There are notes about them, too. The book lists the people with any special abilities, and the people with important ancestors, and the people who have any connections to newspapers and public media - There's a lot of information! There are also notes on safe houses and hideouts, there are safe meeting places, lists of trustworthy healers, lists of trustworthy suppliers, lists of spells - That book is amazing!"

"Why can't the book be sold, though? Why is it so important that no one know I have this book?" Harry pressed.

"When I found the book, it was stuffed away because there were so many spells keeping it closed. It only opened for me because the Dark Lord's magic probably helped make the binding. I have a feeling that a lot of this information was never made public. All those people who donated to Voldemort's cause, all of those people listed in the pages as 'trustworthy but not under suspect,' I bet they've never been arrested or sent to jail. I bet Voldemort fell and they went right on living their lives as if they never helped him at all. If someone found out you had this book, it could be seen as withholding information from the authorities."

Slowly, Harry opened the book to a random page.

"'_Bellatrix__Lestrange_," Harry read. "_Joined__highest__ranks__at__19__with__husband__Rodolphus.__Was__sent__on__the__most__public__assignments__because__of__ability__to__create__distress__and__panic__among__victims.__Arrested__with__husband,__convicted,__sentenced__to__life__in__Azcaban_." Harry read. There was more information on the woman, though. She had five whole pages in the book. There were details of her family tree and everyone she was related to who supported Voldemort. There were details of her assignments, and there were even a few newspaper clippings set between the pages. The book also gave details which could be labeled gossip. The author described the woman's relationship with her husband, and it even hinted at a few affairs she may have had with other men who were employed in Voldemort's service. When the book began to go into detailed descriptions of the woman's crimes, Tom ordered Harry to put the book away.

"How does the author know all this?" Harry asked Tom. The information was all hand written into the book. The color and quality of the ink changed from entry to entry, and even the author's handwriting sometimes changed.

"This book was probably a form of official record kept by Voldemort. Every organization has a secretary," Tom told me.

"So what's your plan?" Harry asked Tom, knowing he had gotten the book for a more specific reason than just knowing a bunch of names.

Tom gave Harry one of his mean grins, where he showed each of his pointed teeth and his red eyes widened a little. He often wore this expression when they plotted ways to upset his relatives.

"This book is all I need, Harry. A piece of my soul has already begun the process. He's already done all this work, found all these people, all these safe places, and all these spells. Of course, he obviously didn't use any of his knowledge wisely, but that's why I've been given another chance, and with you this time. All these people in here, they're the ones I don't have to worry about. They're the ones I don't have to waist my breath on."

Tom opened the book and flipped through the pages until he pointed to a specific entry. "Right here!" he said happily, "Jacob Nott! He's a high ministry official. All of his friends are high ministry officials. I know this man will follow me, and I already know about all of his connections. Then, when this book was written, his wife was pregnant, so we know there's a kid your age running around Hogwarts who was raised to believe what you and I are working towards. And because he already knows and understands our purpose, you don't have to waist your time talking to him at school. And I bet there's a whole little bunch of students just like Nott, who you don't have to worry about. Now, you and I can focus on talking to _your_ half of the students."

Harry blinked stupidly at Tom. Sometimes he hated being the companion to a complete genius. Sometimes, when words came out of his mouth, Harry had no idea what he was saying.

"I don't have a half, Tom. No one supports me."

"Yes they do, Harry. Everyone supports you! You're the bloody boy-who-lived! While I was staying downstairs, I heard people talking about you, and after hearing them talk, I believe they'd move the stars for you. You have more power over these people than you'll probably ever know, because you're too damn nice," Tom explained with a teasing smile. "It's like you've hit the jackpot. You didn't really do anything and already you've got people willing to die for you. So now all you have to do is go to school and make friends with people like Hagrid. Don't waste your time being buddy-buddy with Jacob Nott's kid. Be friends with someone that might not support our cause. And then, when the time finally comes to take action, I'll have my half, and you'll have your half."

This is what Harry liked about having a companion that was a genius- Not only did he come up with brilliant plans, but he also knew how to explain them.


	8. Chapter 8

Finally, September first arrived and Harry woke early in the morning after only a few hours of restless sleep. He had been too excited to fall asleep the night before, and when Harry did sleep, his dreams were strange and vivid.

Tom was even more worked up than Harry was. As a spirit, he didn't need to sleep, and so he spent the night pacing the room. Harry had never really seen Tom nervous about anything, so he was unfamiliar with Tom's nervous habit of running his hand through his hair. After doing this for the entire night, Tom's black hair was in complete disarray. For a moment after seeing the older boy, Harry completely forgot about his own nervous energy, and he wondered at this new less than perfect Tom.

Then, Tom saw Harry was awake. Instead of pulling himself together, like Harry thought he would, he began to lecture him, instead.

"Today will be the most important day of your first year - no, it will probably be the most important day of your entire _seven__years_ of Hogwarts. First impressions are everything, and you need to build relationships with your schoolmates which will last the next seven years and survive your days after school, as well. I need you to be strong today, okay Harry? Do everything I tell you to do, say everything I tell you to, and talk to everyone I point out."

"That's not fair, Tom!" Harry whined as he began to wake fully and understand what Tom was saying. "I want to make my own friends! I don't want to spend seven whole years of my life around people that I don't like!"

Tom sighed, "I'm sorry, Harry. I promised myself you'd love Hogwarts and have fun, but I keep forgetting... Still, it's important that you make good connections, and I won't let you be friends with complete idiots. I mean it, Harry, I don't care how nice or friendly anyone is. Hagrid is the only soft skull I'll let you hang around."

Harry rolled his eyes at Tom's dig on Hagrid. "Just tell me how to tell the pureblood Slytherins from everyone else."

Tom snorted, "Oh, you'll be able to tell who the purebloods are. They think the world of themselves."

"Well that's stupid of them," Harry said as he finally climbed out of bed. "Everyone knows the world revolves around you, Tom."

"Don't be smart, Harry," Tom demanded.

After Harry had taken a shower and put on some fresh cloths, he ordered breakfast from downstairs. Tom made him order oatmeal _and_French toast. He said Harry needed to eat a big breakfast because they didn't serve lunch on the train, just sweets. Harry liked the sound of that, but Tom said he would get sick from too much chocolate because Harry didn't eat sweats while growing up.

As Harry ate his breakfast, Tom pulled out the Death Eater book and listed off names for Harry to remember so he might know which of his classmates already had an affinity for Tom's ideals. Harry nodded along with him as he ate, but he wasn't really paying attention. Harry thought of how lucky he was that he didn't have to leave Tom behind, and his friend could stay with him for the entire year.

Then, Tom finally announced that it was time to leave.

"Tom, the train doesn't leave for another hour and a half," Harry told him, waving the ticket in Tom's face while pointing at the clock by the door. It was only 9:30, and it would only take them about fifteen minuets to get to the train station.

Of course, Tom exaggerated the time as he swatted at his hand and said, "It will take us about half an hour to get across town. And then I want a good pick at the compartments- one at the back of the train. Not many people like to sit in those because the compartments there are older and they jerk around a bit. I'm sure we'll have plenty of privacy."

Tom made Harry pack the Death Eater book at the bottom of his trunk before they left.

"When they get to the school, I'm going to help you build a false bottom so you can hide books and papers in your trunk without worrying about one of your roommates stumbling into them while searching for a tie he can borrow," Tom promised while he rolled his eyes at a memory of his Hogwarts days.

Once downstairs, the bartender Tom helped call a taxi for Harry.

Harry waved happily to Tom (the bartender Tom) as they drove away.

The cab driver made small talk the entire time, "What's your name, kid?"

"Simple answers, Harry," Tom advised. "Don't get too friendly with strangers."

"Harry," he answered.

"Do you know which train you're taking?"

Harry was a syllable away from answering, "Nine and tree quarters." But Tom pinched him, and Harry remembered his place. "Platform ten," Harry answered.

The driver nodded as if he knew where platform Ten was headed, "Are you going to see some family?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "My aunt and uncle."

He was pondering how much longer he'd have to lie to the Muggle cab driver when they pulled up next to the curb.

"Do you need help with your trunk and your...umm...your owl?" the cab driver asked, giving Hedwig a sidelong glance.

"Yes, please!" Harry said, remembering his struggle to pull his luggage from the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron and to the street outside. Harry was still confused as to how a room full of people with wands failed of offer Harry the help of a simple levitation charm.

The taxi driver found a cart, then lifted Harry's trunk onto it while Harry held Hedwig's cage. Tom stood next to Harry and impatiently shifted his feet as he glanced around the station. Harry reasoned that he was probably looking for signs of other wizards in the train station.

Finally, Tom and Harry were ready to head to the platform.

"That man moved like a bloody snail," Tom complained in a low voice. "He'd make the car come to a complete stop before turning a corner!"

Harry let Tom complain about the taxi driver and the Muggle form of transportation as they moved through the station. Harry found that complaining was another sign that Tom was nervous, like pulling his hand through his hair. Harry became nervous, too, as they got closer to the designated platform- 6, 7, 8, 9, and then, 10.

Harry stopped pushing the cart, looking around, "Um, Tom?" Harry said quietly, looking between the platforms nine and ten. "Tom, it's not here!" Harry said, speaking a little louder than before, "There is no platform! Are they late? Is my watch wrong? What if we missed the train? What if-"

"Harry!" Tom said, clamping a hand over his mouth, and Harry saw that the people around them were turning to stare.

"Um, maybe I'll just call mom and dad, Tom," Harry said, suddenly turning to Hedwig and looking at her. "What do you think?"

Hedwig gave Harry an indigent hoot, then turned her back to him. Tom stood behind Harry, laughing at his attempt to cover for himself.

"I never told you about this part?" Tom asked. He pointed to a barrier close to platform 10. "That's platform Nine and three quarters. You just have to run at it."

"I might only be eleven-years-old, Tom, but I'm not completely stupid. That's the kind of trick Dudley liked to play. It-it's just a wall."

"That's what I thought the first time I saw it, too. Just walk into it, you'll be fine," Tom said, giving Harry a small push.

Harry shook his head, but walked toward the barrier. He was sure that his cart would just bounce off of it, and then Harry would draw even more attention to himself. Then, Harry would be kicked out of the station for sure, and then he wouldn't get to go to Hogwarts. Then he couldn't help Tom reform the wizarding world, and he would have to find someone else to help him. Then Harry would have to go back to the Dursleys and he would be all alone again and then- Harry walked right through the wall.

Harry blinked in shock as he realized that Tom hadn't been pulling his leg. And there, in front of him, was a huge steam engine.

"Damn it," Tom said behind Harry. "They've gotten a new train. I guess we can still try to sit in the back. Hopefully no one will bother us."

His voice shook Harry out of his stupor and Harry began to inspect the area around them. There was hardly anyone on the platform. The train was still and the noise from the station didn't pass through the magical barrier.

Tom moved on ahead, towards the back of the train. Harry followed him, inspecting the silver engine. It didn't look very magical or special. It looked like a plain old train. As they neared the back of the platform, they saw another student loading their trunk into a carriage.

"She looks like she could be a first year, too," Tom said as he stopped to inspect the girl and her family. The mother and daughter stood off to the side, talking excitedly and moving their hands in a very animated way. The father was wrestling with the girl's trunk, pulling it onto the train. Harry only had to stand and watch her for a moment before the girl saw him. She immediately stopped talking (she was even in the middle of a sentence) and she moved away from her mother and towards Harry. When she came to a stop in front of him, she said, "Hi, I'm Hermoine Granger. Are you a first year, too?"

Harry nodded as she continued, "Are you from a wizard family? My parents are both non-magical. They didn't believe it when they first received the letter. What about you?"

"Um, my parents were wizards, yeah," Harry said.

"_Ohmygoodness_! You're Harry Potter!" she said with an excited gasp. "I've read about you in four books! I didn't know you would be at school with me!"

"A Ravenclaw, for sure," Tom said snidely from beside Harry.

"Would you like some gum?" The girl suddenly asked, "My parents are both dentists, so its sugar free." She quickly handed Harry a piece without waiting for a reply.

"What do you think the school will be like?" the girl asked, "I've read that it has one of the most extensive libraries in the world. It's even got a few books on the Dark Arts. Can you believe that?"

"Does she ever stop talking?" Tom groaned. "You need to get on the train!"

Harry looked around and sure enough, more people were beginning to crowd the platform.

The girl stopped speaking as quickly as she had begun and took a deep breath. She seemed much calmer as she said, "Sorry. I get a little too excited sometimes."

Harry shrugged. His cousin liked to punch him in the arm when he was excited, so Harry could handle someone who only spoke quickly.

The girl's father came to stand by them as he asked, "Do you need some help with your trunk, there?" Harry nodded and gave him a grateful smile. He held Hedwig as the man began to role Harry's trunk over to the train.

"Oh, she's beautiful! Mom and dad were thinking about getting me an owl, too. But I decided I wanted a cat. What's his name?" Hermione asked.

Harry grinned, "_Her _name is Hedwig."

"Really? There's someone named Hedwig in _A __History __of __Magic_! That's one of our school books; I've read them all."

Harry had, too. He had been pretty board for the three weeks when Tom and he weren't speaking to each other.

Harry looked over to her father, who was just getting his trunk onto the train.

"Well," Hermoine said, "It was really nice meeting you. I'm going to see if I can find anyone else from our year."

"Okay. Bye!" Harry called as she rushed away.

Harry went into the train and found the compartment where Hermione's father, the dentist, had put his trunk. Then, Harry sat by Tom, and he waited.

**Annoying Note: WARNING! The chapters after this haven't been edited (and horribly enough, although the previous chapters HAVE been edited, after looking over this chapter, I realize that there are STILL some mistakes, and I still need to make some changes, darn it. Honestly, what is it about italics that makes them impossible to transfer from one program to another?) ****From here on out, the POV changes to 1st person (1st person in a wierd way) until chapters 21 or 22 or something like that. I said it in the first chapter, and I'll say it again: UNTIL I EDIT THE REST, THIS STORY WILL BE A MESS (and apparently, I need to go through the first 8 chapters and edit those again, as well. Bah).**

**I hope you've liked the story up till now. And if you continue reading, I hope you enjoy it as well. **

**If you read the story pre-edit and actually remember it (honestly, I'm the author and didn't remember it), and now you've read it post-edit, give a review or send me a message telling me what you think. I really appriciate the feedback!**


	9. Chapter 9

Harry had never really traveled. The Dursleys never allowed him to go on trips with them. When his family went out of town, Harry had two options. The first option, Mrs. Figg, was the good option. Even though Mrs. Figg had too many cats and her house smelled funny, Harry considered her house the good option because the other option was his aunt Marge. His aunt and uncle would ask Mrs. Figg to take Harry first, because she lived only a few streets down and it cost less (gas wise) so it took less time to drop Harry off at her house. But if she wasn't able to look after Harry, they would leave him at Aunt Marge's house. Harry didn't like Aunt Marge because she insisted that Harry follow her around like one of her horrible little dogs. Then, as Harry obeyed her every command, she told Harry about how he should be put to sleep and his aunt and uncle were too good to him.

Harry thought that the longest drive that the Dursleys have ever taken him on was the drive to Aunt Marge's house. And he didn't like to count that, because it never felt like he was actually going anywhere. At least, it didn't feel like he was going anywhere special. Marge's house was only about an hour away and for the most part they drove through town after town after boring little town, and nothing along the road ever seemed to change.

Harry was reminded of his lack of travel by Hermione as she told Harry about her family's last trip to France.

"-and it's annoying because to talk to anyone, we needed my mother to be there. She's the only one in the family that can speak French, you know. I'm trying to learn the language, but I just get so distracted by the interesting history. We went and saw the Palace of Versailles. We went on a tour, and it was one of the most beautiful buildings I had ever seen. I bet Hogwarts will be nicer, though. I've seen pictures of it in _Hogwarts__:__A__History_ and-"

Tom gently prodded Harry's side to get his attention. "That's a book you need to read. It's bloody useful if you want to understand anything about the school, and you should know about the place you're going to be living in for the next seven years."

"- Of course, it's not as beautiful as Ireland. My parents were thinking about renting a cottage by the sea for the summer, but they decided that if they wanted to send me to Hogwarts, they would need to keep their practice open to pay for his tuition. They had to take a bit out from my university fund to pay for school this year. It seems rather pointless to have a university fund now, though, doesn't it? I've read that after we get out of Hogwarts, we enter an apprentice program in whichever field we want to work in. It sounds like we'll be thrown into a trade or profession to work it out for ourselves. I hope that doesn't mean we have to do a lot of crafts and physical labor. I'm not very good with my hands. Have you thought of what you want to be?"

Harry not only knew what he wanted to be, he knew what he _would_ be. Tom and Harry had been making plans to reform the wizarding world for as long as Harry could remember. But Hermione wouldn't understand anything about that yet. She had just been introduced to the wizarding world. Plus, she was a Muggle-born, so it would be a while until she understood that the wizarding world needed to change. So instead of telling the girl about his true intentions, Harry told her, "No. I don't even know what jobs there are."

This answer was the wrong answer. Hermione immediately went off into a tangent about job opportunities in wizard communities. Harry was unable to fully comprehend or even process her constant chatter or the facts she was constantly offering. In response, Harry began to drift away from the conversation, and he was distracted by the landscape rushing by the windows.

The train was leaving London and picking up speed. Houses became fewer and further between and soon there was nothing but rolling countryside rushing by the windows.

Finally, Hermione ran out of steam and she also turned to peer out the window.

"I hear that Hogwarts is somewhere in Scotland," Hermione said absently, breaking the comfortable silence.

"It is," Tom answered.

"No one's sure, though," Hermione said, "The school is untraceable and unplottable."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked. She knew more about the school than Harry did, and he had listened to Tom talk about the place for years.

"_Hogwarts:__A__History_," she said simply, "Scotland is beautiful. I just can't wait to see the school grounds. There's a lake. And a forest, and it's all surrounded by mountains."

Harry almost snapped at her that he already knew all of that, but when Harry looked at her, he realized that she was talking more to herself than him. She looked wistful, and he realized she was only excited, the way Tom became excited when he spoke about Hogwarts.

Hermione realized that Harry was looking at her and she blushed, "Sorry. It's just... It's hard to believe. We're going to a place that's _magic_. Sometimes I still think that the letter, Diagon Alley, this train, they're all just some cruel joke played by the kids from school."

Harry nodded his understanding.

Hermione looked out the window again and they went back to watching the scenery rush past the windows.

Their daydreaming was interrupted by the compartment's door sliding open. A boy stuck his head in and said, "Have you seen a rat anywhere?"

Hermione's face went pale and her eyes darted around the floor, "A rat?"

"Don't worry," the red head said while grinning. "He's completely harmless. Mostly he just sleeps. He's useless, really. If you haven't seen him, I'll go check his with brothers. They probably rat-napped him and..." the boy trailed off, and his gaze became focused and intense. "You- you're Harry Potter!" he suddenly cried.

Harry reached his hand towards his forehead to push his bangs down over his scar. This was becoming a natural reaction when people's eyes darted to his forehead. The action annoyed Tom.

Luckily, Hermione came to his rescue. "If you've got nothing better to do than stare, then leave," she commanded.

The boy blushed and said, "Sorry. I mean, really. It's just... I wasn't expecting..."

The read head was suddenly shoved into the compartment. He was followed by two older boys who had the same shocking red hair as him. Their presence filled the compartment as they shoved the boy around and spoke loudly.

"We've fixed your rat!" One of the twins announced while the other brother held up a red and gold rat, which was sleeping even as he was waved around in the air.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked. She moved close to take a look. Ultimately, she bit her lip and cowered from the thought of touching it.

The boy stood, brushing at his cloths off before taking a look at the rat. "Scabbers!" he cried. "What did you do to him?"

"We've decided that he'll be the official Gryffindor mascot! We wanted to use a cat, but we couldn't find one," a twin answered.

"Look," the other twin said, pointing to the rat, "We've even given him a tuft of fur around his neck!"

The twins gave their little redhead brother his rat and the boy starred at it for a moment before saying, "But what if I'm not in Gryffindor?"

At the same time, the twins said, "Don't be stupid."

"Are you already making friends, Ronnie?" one of the twins asked. He pushed around the boy - Ronnie? - to take a good look at Hermione and Harry.

The boy's eyes flickered from Harry to Hermione. "Well, I don't know her, but-"

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said, "And isn't it against the rules to do magic outside of the school? You could get in trouble for that."

"Look at the first year, George!" The twin still standing by the door cried, pointing to Hermione, "Doesn't she remind you of a certain spoilsport?"

"She sure does, Fred!" the twin dubbed George said. "Hey, firsty. When we get to school, remind us to introduce you to Percy! He'll want to marry you!"

Hermione's shoulder dropped a bit. She didn't know who Percy was, but she was smart, and she knew when people were making fun of her.

Luckily, Ronnie stepped in to defend her, "Shove off, you two."

The twins focused their attention on their little brother again."Hey, Ron. Want to see something cool? Lee Jordan got a new pet this summer."

Ronnie -Ron- looked intrigued, but said, "No. I think I'll stay here for a bit."

The two twins shrugged and finally turned their attention to Harry, "And who are you?"

" Harry Potter," he answered, and when Tom gave Harry a nudge, he held out a hand to them.

George grabbed his hand and started pumping it up and down as he said, "Blimy! Our little brother is friends with Harry Potter! Right time you started making good decisions, Ron. For a bit there we thought you were going to go hang out by the Slytherin end of the train!"

"Get out!" Ron snapped. He began pushing the two boys from the compartment and they let him, laughing even as the compartment door was soundly shut in their faces.

"Sorry 'bout them," Ron sighed while putting his red and gold rat in this coat pocket, "They get a little rowdy when they're excited."

"I've forgotten how loud Gryffindors can be," Tom said from beside Harry. "That's the lot you want to be friends with, since I've already got the Slytherin vote."

Gryffindors didn't seem so bad to Harry. He thought they were funny. And he knew things would always be exciting around those two boys...

"Who's Percy?" Hermione asked. Ron came further into the compartment and took a seat next to Harry.

"He's our older brother. He's a Prefect this year, and the twins are giving him a bad time about it, "Ron explained.

Hermione's eyebrow went up. "There are four of you?"

"Seven," Ron corrected, "But my two oldest brothers are already out of school and my sister isn't starting until next year. What about you? I've never heard the name Granger before."

"She's Muggle-born," Harry told Ron.

Ron nodded and said, "My family's all purebloods. But they didn't follow You-Know-Who or anything."

"Jackpot," Tom said beside Harry, grinning. "Stick around with this one."


	10. Chapter 10

Tom wasn't lying when he told Harry that his first day at Hogwarts would be his hardest. It seemed something happened to upset Harry every five minuets.

Technically, the first upsetting event happened while Harry was only trying to find platform nine and tree quarters. He was terrified that he would run into a solid brick wall in front of a bunch of Muggles, and then he would be kicked out of the station and Harry would never make it to Hogwarts. However, he didn't like to include this event in his list of "bad things about the first day" because it wasn't really anything to be worried about and the ordeal only lasted for about 15 seconds.

No, the real problems came with The Weasley Twins.

Don't get confused. The Weasley Twins weren't actually the problem. The two boys were accredited with introducing Harry to Ron, one of his first friends. Harry also appreciated their humor, and he knew he wanted to be friends with them the moment he met them. So no, they weren't the problem. The two boys only _caused_ problems.

They were the ones who announced Harry was on the train.

As Harry soon found out, Hogwarts was a school divided. Not divided because of the war, but as Tom explained, they were divided by two millennia of tradition and rivalry.

Even so, when Harry's name was said, the entire school seemed to conjugate to gossip about him. Word traveled fast when the words involved Harry Potter. That day on the train was the first time Harry ever experienced Hogwarts' gossip mill, and because it was the first time, it was the worst.

Ron left soon after Hermione and Harry met him. He said he was sitting with a boy named Justin in another compartment, and that Justin would be wondering where he was. As Ron left the compartment, he bumped into someone- Draco Malfoy. Ron handled the situation nicely, considering how brash Ron could be. He recognized Malfoy and simply gave the blond boy a nasty look and a small shove before continuing to move towards his compartment. That small shove was the smallest, quietest, least harmful encounter the two were to ever experience.

Years latter, Harry whished that Ron and Malfoy's meeting _had_ turned into a confrontation so that he could have acted on his initial impulse to smash Malfoy's head through a window.

Malfoy gave them one of his looks, where he peered down his nose and sneered at at with closed, down turned lips. He looked like a puppy trying to play as a dog, all posturing but posing no real threat. He lumbered into the car, attempting an entrance that Harry latter found out only Snape was capable of. He looked at Hermione and grimaced at her (he was trying to leer).

The boy didn't stay in the compartment very long, and after the first insult, Harry avoided listening to the rest of his speech. Instead, Harry focused on Malfoy's fidgeting hands and his stiff posture. Even on that first day, when they were all nervous children entering the first day of their future, it was obvious Malfoy wasn't as strong as he tried to look. As a result, any esteem Harry could have held for him sizzled and died.

The entire five minutes that Malfoy was in the car, Harry only heard two of the things he said- First, his name. Then, Harry heard him say that he was the only person Harry could trust.

Harry was infuriated. Tom was irritated, as well. If he had been more than a spirit, he would have killed Malfoy with his bare hands (something Tom thought was undignified and entirely too messy).

Harry was a closed fist away from punching Malfoy. He didn't think about what he was doing. His own actions didn't register in his mind. All he wanted to do was show that stupid little blond kid just how much Harry _didn't_ trust him.

But Hermione was his voice of reason. She screamed at Harry to stop, and Harry did. He had been so angry and he was so used to taking orders from Tom that for a split second, Harry couldn't tell Hermione's voice from his friend's. Hermione pushed Malfoy to the safety of the public corridor before Harry could pull his wand or find a blunt-force instrument.

However, the true damage had been done. The seed had been planted. From that moment on, Malfoy and Harry hated each other.

After Malfoy left, Hermione gave Harry his first lecture. It was the first of many lectures to come, but Harry didn't know that at the time, and he reacted badly. When she admonished him, Harry transferred his anger at Malfoy to her. After his harsh rebuttal, she was stunned, but retreated to her side of the compartment to sulk.

Harry didn't calm down until Tom got over his own furry. Tom managed to calm Harry just in time. Because after Malfoy was gone, other people began making their way into the compartment.

Then, Harry's temper returned. He wasn't as angry as with Malfoy, but if Hermione hadn't finally locked the car door, he would have turned someone inside out (an illegal curse and a spell Harry had never practiced, but their deaths would have been fairly quick and painless... kind of).

What upset Harry most was that no one ever actually came into the car and talked to him. The children simply hovered in the corridor and whispered to each other, as if Harry wasn't there. They acted as if he was an animal in a cage, and he was there for their amusement. It continued after Hermione shut the doors, too.

The situation improved (at least for a moment) when Fred and George appeared. Harry almost didn't let them into the compartment, but Hermione was once again the voice of reason. She told Harry that they wouldn't be as rude as the other people, because they had already met him. That and they also had the decency to knock. Harry let them in.

"Oy, Harry, you've got a mob out here!" George (at least Harry thought it was George) said.

Fred (as far as Harry could guess) continued, "It took us ten minutes to shovel through that lot!"

"The Candy Witch couldn't make it into the compartment, so we bought you something," George (yes, Harry was pretty sure that he was George) said, throwing Harry a few boxes.

Beside him, Tom moaned, "You'll be bouncing off the walls! You'll probably have a stomach ache during the sorting, as well."

Harry grinned his thanks to the two boys, and then dug into his pocket to pay them back. At first, they looked like they were going to refuse the money, but in the end, they accepted.

Fred (now Harry was certain it was him) was about to thank Harry when there was a _thunk_ at the compartment door. From the raised voices outside, the group learned that the crowding in the corridor was becoming dangerous, and people were beginning to shove into each other.

The Twins glared at the closed door for a moment before grinning to each other.

"Want us to take care of them for you, Harry?" George asked, sending Harry a wink.

He nodded, and the twins opened the door and slid into the hall. Hermione, Tom and Harry listened as they began to yell over the crowd.

"Alright you lot, listen up!" One twin called out, and there was a sudden hush in the hall.

"So here's the deal- Harry Potter is in the compartment behind us."

"But you see, he's a very busy fellow!"

The twins nodded to each other as they said, "Very busy with important matters."

"So if you want to see Harry Potter-"

"If you really, really want to see Harry Potter-"

"You'll need to make an appointment!"

There was a pause of silence in the hall.

"An appointment?" someone murmured.

The twins nodded. "Mr. Potter has kindly hired us as his secretaries and managers."

"If any of you fine witches and wizards wish to speak with Mr. Potter, we would be happy to arrange a meeting."

"Why, if we find you charming, we may even allow you to sit in his compartment!"

"Really?" someone whispered.

"He has managers?"

"What 'important matters' could he possibly have to-"

One of the twins clapped his hands together. "If anyone is interested, we would be happy to assist you."

"I want to sit in Harry Potter's compartment!" someone declared.

At this declaration, several others spoke up, as well.

"Of course-" one of the twins began, holding up his hands to silence the crowd, "As Mr. Potter's managers, we demand a tiny little fee!"

"A _fee_?" one of the children cried.

"Now, now, time is money!"

"And for Harry Potter's time, we demand your money!"

"No way!" someone cried.

"You don't expect us to believe that rubbish!" yelled another.

The twins nodded. "We do, because you see, Mr. Potter didn't only hire us as secretaries and managers."

"He also hired us as body guards!" the other twin merrily announced.

"Harass Mr. Potter, and _we_ get to harass _you_!"

Now, they nodded to each other as one said "Do you still know that spell for turning toothbrushes into spiders?"

"Oh! And the jinx for sticking people to the ceiling!"

"Or the jinx to make everything a person eats taste like horse dung!"

The Hogwarts student body knew the Weasley twins well. And if one of the brothers didn't remember the spells the other was listing off, some of those present in the hall certainly _did_.

"So pay up-"

"Mind, our prices rise by the second!"

"Or move out!"

As the hall began to clear, Tom quietly chuckled beside Harry and Hermione looked indignant as she shook her head, "Really! Who in their right minds would-"

"I'll pay!" someone called.

"Then you're welcome to make an appointment!" one of the twins told the boy.

In only a few moments, the hallway outside the compartment was clear, and only the one boy was left. He stood in the hallway, blocked from view by Fred and George.

"Is Harry Potter really in there?" he asked.

"He sure is!" one of the twins answered.

"Alright," the boy said. Money was exchanged, and he asked, "So will you let me through?"

"Of course not!" one of the twins cried.

"Mr. Potter can't meet with you today," the other explained.

"Weren't you listening earlier?"

"He's very busy with important matters."

"What? But-" the boy sputtered.

"In fact, he's very busy with important matters until October. How does the third work for you?"

"I gave you five sickles for _that_?"

"~No refunds!" the twins sang as one.

They then chased the boy from the compartment with their heckling.

Watching a rude, inconsiderate boy being robbed of his money was the best part of Harry's day.

Soon, they were at Hogwarts and they were riding the boats across the lake. Harry sat with Hermione, Ron and Ron's friend Justin. Harry was thankful for the familiar company.

Then, there was the castle. It was everything Tom said it would be, and Harry's heart soared as he entered the castle.

His bliss lasted for only a moment, however. After all, it was time for the sorting.

Standing in the hall and watching his year mates find their houses was fun. Harry wasn't nervous at all.

However, the sorting proved to be the worst ten minutes of Harry's young life.

It knew. That damn relic knew _everything_. It went into Harry's head and swam through his memories, sifting through every secret, looking at every thought. It even had the gall to joke about Tom's state of being.

When the torture was over, and Harry got down from the stool, he almost began to cry. He was horrified that the hat would tell Dumbledore what it had seen. He was afraid that it would announce the presence of the Dark Lord rather than announcing his house.

However, the call of " _Gryffindor!_" was all that followed.

Harry couldn't stomach any food during the feast- Merlin knew he was hungry- he hadn't eaten since that morning, but whenever Harry tried to chew or swallow, the food was dry in his mouth.

The people around Harry knew something was wrong. Hermione said she could tell the moment the hat was taken off his head. At first, she pestered him.

At first, she thought that Harry was upset because he was sorted into Gryffindor. Hermione quickly pushed that theory aside, though. She seemed comfortable at the table, and he was glad to be in the same house as her. Still, he was upset.

Tom was fretting the whole meal, too. He had no idea what Harry was so upset about. His own experience with the hat wasn't nearly as stressful – he was one of the quick placements, and so he hadn't experience the hat's full abilities.

Harry barley heard Dumbledore's announcements because he was so upset. He hardly heard anything the students around him were saying.

Then it was time to go to bed. Hermione gave Harry a hug before they went their separate ways.

In the dorm, the other boys were all asleep in moments, but Harry stayed awake. Tom and Harry went down to the common room, which was empty, and Harry finally got the chance to break down.

Harry didn't cry often, and Tom was at a loss. With Harry's family, Tom only had to play a mean trick on them or talk to Harry about how things would be different one day. But this was something totally different, and he didn't know what to do.

After calming Harry to an extent, he told Tom about how the sorting hat knew everything- it knew that Tom was alive and with Harry, it knew about their plans, and it was going to tell Dumbledore. Harry told Tom how he would be thrown out, and how Harry would have to go live with the Dursleys. And what was worse: they would probably loose each other. Dumbledore certainly knew a way to destroy Tom.

Tom told Harry that sounded like a broken record. This confused Harry until Tom reminded him of his fears while going through the barrier at the train station. Tom went on to explain that Harry wouldn't be kicked out, and that they would be just fine.

Tom told Harry about his own sorting, and how the hat knew about his dark thoughts despite the fact that the hat was barely on his head for a second. But he wasn't kicked out of school, not even when he (accidentally!) killed a girl (he really didn't mean to, honest!).

That made Harry feel better, and Tom made him go back up to the dorms and lie down. He told Harry to sleep, but Harry couldn't. Harry worried about it until dawn, and Tom was there for Harry the entire time.


	11. Chapter 11

Of course, Harry wasn't kicked out the next morning. He tried to prolong breakfast for as long as possible. The night before, as Harry had become sleepier and more disoriented, he had convinced himself that when he got down to the Great Hall for breakfast, a small army would be waiting for him so that they could arrest him. Harry was the last of the boys out of bed, and Ron had to drag him from the tower.

The walk down to the dining hall felt like a death march. Harry tried to prolong his entrance into the hall for as long as possible. He even tried to get the group lost, but Tom told Harry to suck it up and he forced Harry into the correct passages.

When Harry finally arrived at breakfast, the only person waiting for him was Hermione. She had already fixed a plate of food for him.

After that, his nerves calmed. Harry saw the headmaster eating at the head table, and the man didn't look mad or suspicious. Harry did catch his eye once, and he smiled, but other than that small gesture, Dumbledore gave no indication of knowing who Harry was.

"Stop staring, Harry," Tom ordered. "Never watch anyone like that. If someone saw you, they would immediately know something was wrong."

Harry did as Tom said, turning his focus to the table. He immediately found a good conversation to serve as a distraction.

"That man shouldn't be allowed in the hall when we're trying to eat," Ron grumbled from across the table.

"Who?" Dean asked, and Ron pointed to the Slytherin table. Harry's eye's fell on the ghost sitting there and shivers ran up his spine.

"That's the Bloody Baron," Tom told Harry. "He might look scary, but he's the best ghost in Hogwarts. He used to help me with my Transfiguration homework."

Harry prayed that the Baron wouldn't try to help him with his homework.

The first day of classes was hell. Harry hadn't slept at all the night before, and he only made it through the day because Tom was there to catch his mistakes.

The first week of class was hectic, at best. Early on, Hermione, Parvati and Lavender figured out that if they wanted to get to class on time without getting lost or trapped in a strange corridor, they had to follow Harry. Tom told Harry how to get everywhere, so he was never lost.

The second week of school, Harry asked the 3 girls to back off a bit. He liked them, really he did, but the other guys were giving Harry a hard time for hanging out with girls all the time. Especially Malfoy.

The girls did back off. For about two days. Soon, Harry found himself Hermione's designated study partner. Tom loved it. No one in Harry's house studied the way Hermione did, and because Harry hung out with her all the time, she forced Harry to study, as well.

"She's Muggle-born, and she's bloody annoying, but I guess she's all right," Tom told Harry one night as Hermione went up to her dormitories to grab a book she needed. Hermione had just finished lecturing Harry on minor curses, and his homework for the next day was complete and well worked.

Tom and Harry were enjoying a moment of rest when Ron approached.

"Hey, Harry!" he said, and plopped into the chair beside him. He handed Harry a piece or parchment and said, "I thought you and Hermione would want to see this," he said, pointing to a picture of Goblins. "We're trying to see who can come up with the most out-there explanation and still sound believable. Seamus' story about ghosts who returned from the dead to hoard a fortune is winning. "

Harry scanned the article as Hermione came down the stairs and started badgering Ron about his homework. Tom read over his shoulder.

"Strange," Tom murmured as he read the article. "Nothing gets past goblins. Their magic acts differently than ours, and they can smell a wizard from a mile away. They can't do much to wizards in battle without the use of goblin-forged weapons, but their detection magic is unrivaled, and their fierce when it comes to protecting their fortune. It would take something powerful to deceive them in their own tunnels." Tom scowled at the article for another minute before shrugging and returning his attention to Harry's homework.

* * *

After a few weeks, Harry found that it was hard to stay on everyone's good side. Hermione was probably his best friend, and she was dead useful when studying for a test, but she was only a Muggle-born. So even though Harry liked her best out of everyone, Tom claimed Harry had obligations to... other witches and wizards.

Ron was the easiest to hang out with... except when Harry was trying to study for a test. Ron was probably the laziest of everyone in Gryffindor and he knew every card game ever invented. He would avoid studying by teaching those games to Harry. Harry tried to spend at least an hour relaxing with Ron every evening, away from Hermione and away from school work.

Harry also got on well with Neville. He was a pureblood, and even though he was clumsy and a bit of a dunce at performing magic, he knew tons about wizarding etiquette and history. His family wasn't as rich or influential as the Malfoys, but their name was still well known, and they kept after tradition. Neville told great stories about the high-society functions he sometimes had to attend.

"We're not always invited. A lot of purebloods got their money a long time ago using practices which people frown upon now, you know, and those people all run in the same crowd. But once or twice a year someone will hold a huge party. There will be a ball and an eight course meal. The Malfoys hold the Christmas party every year at a chateau in France. It's pretty fun."

Harry paused at this. He had never thought of Malfoy as fun. In fact, Malfoy and fun weren't usually in the same sentence. When Neville saw his look of disbelief, he shuffled his feet and said, "Well, it's Christmas, and the adults drink. Plus, everyone knows everyone and they always have, and people start telling some really interesting stories. It's the one time that everyone gets along properly."

Nevelle also knew about wizard laws and tradition. "My Gran never likes anything to change."

So Harry began asking Neville about how things used to be.

Shortly after Harry began talking with Neville, he discovered that Tom didn't know much about law or old etiquette, either. He was only 17 when he split his soul and was bound to the journal. He had never been invited to any of the pure-blood parties because no one knew he was Slytherin's heir. He once tried to learn from his dorm mates, as Harry was learning from Neville, but they were useless. They liked to play a game where they told Tom lies and then watched to see if Tom could pick out the lies from the truth. Many of Tom's house mates experienced unfortunate accidents that year.

And that was where Harry began to strain, socially. He was trying to juggle several people and interests: Learning to do magic with Hermione, leaning to be a proper wizard from Neville, learning chess from Ron (Chess with Ron may not sound straining, but Ron wanted to play _all__the__time_), and generally trying to stay on everyone's good sides.

Staying on his friend's good sides became harder and harder as the Potter-Malfoy feud began to escalate.

Hermione didn't like how often Malfoy and Harry fought. Ron was mad that Harry didn't punch the blond git more often, and he egged Harry on. Tom was exasperated from trying to keep Harry's growing temper in check. The teachers were tired of arguing over who would oversee detentions. Harry's house mates were not only irritated at the dramatic loss of points, but they where also upset that Harry didn't just drown Malfoy in the lake and have it done with.

It was after a particularly grand fight with Malfoy that Harry's _real_ problems began. Hermione had found that doing homework did not calm Harry in the same way that it calmed her. She was quick enough to notice that Harry got restless easily, and the best way to keep him focused and happy was to let Harry hang out with Ron or the twins.

However, Hermione didn't like for Harry to hang out with any Weasleys after fights with Malfoy, and neither did Tom. Ron and The Twins liked to egg Harry on, fuel his temper, and make the situation worse. It was for that reason that Hermione took it into her own hands to hang out with Harry after he fought with Malfoy.

She and Harry always went to an unused classroom to play cards or draw silly (and sometimes rude) pictures. Hermione, ever the perfectionist, was good at copying illustrations from their textbooks. Harry liked to draw pictures of Draco Malfoy as a girl.

Tom liked this post "battle" time because he could get away from the Gryffindor common room. He said that the obnoxious colors gave him headaches.

And so on one particular evening, after a grand fight, Hermione and Harry were trying to find somewhere far away from Malfoy when they found a disused hallway.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked as she looked at the bare walls and the stained floors.

"Third corridor," Tom answered.

"I think we're in the third corridor," Harry repeated to Hermione, and she froze.

"Harry," she said in a loud whisper, "We are _not_ supposed to be here."

"Why not?" Harry asked, continuing down the hall. He studied the bare walls with interest, taking note of the lack of paintings.

"Weren't you listening to Dumbledore at the Welcoming Feast? He said that if anyone came down here, they would _die_!"

"Die? Are you sure? I don't think there would be anything the school that could hurt students," Harry told Hermione.

Beside Harry, Tom coughed, and Harry cringed as he remembered the Basilisk.

"I guess maybe we _should_ go," Harry said quietly, and he began to turn around. However, before they could return to a safer area of the school, then they heard footsteps.

"Who's down there?" asked a familiar voice.

Hermione gasped and ran to Harry, grabbing at his arm, "Harry, if Snape finds us around here, we'll be expelled!"

Those words struck true to Harry's nerves and he quickly pulled Hermione to stand in a small alcove.

As the steps grew closer and closer, Harry heard the swoosh of Snape's cloak. When he was near, his footsteps began to slow, then he stopped. Hermione looked like she was going to start hyperventilating, and Harry put his hand over her mouth so Snape wouldn't hear her heavy breath.

Snape slowly moved towards them, but he stopped short of their hiding place. Harry heard the creek of an opening door. Snape murmured quietly to himself as he peered into the room, speaking his suspicions out loud. He then stepped back into the hall and shut the door, sliding the lock into place. Snape stood still for a moment before he continued down the hall. As he passed by Harry and Hermione, Harry was sure he would see them, but instead of looking into their alcove, Snape's gaze swung towards the alcove on the opposite side of the hall.

Hermione and Harry stood still as they listened to his retreating steps. After a few more moments, Harry felt it was safe for Hermione to start hyperventilating, so he took his hand from her mouth. But instead of fainting, she said, "Do you remember a door being over there?"

A door? Harry hadn't seen a door.

"I'm going to follow Snape," Tom said, and he started after the man, "You two go back to the tower."

Harry followed Tom into the hall and watched as he jogged to catch up with Snape.

Hermione shoved passed Harry and she began inching towards the new door.

"Harry, this wasn't here before," she stated confidently as she peered at the oak wood door sitting in the wall. Her chin slowly rose as she inspected it.

And she was right. They would have noticed something as big as that door. Harry remember being vaguely creeped out by the bare walls while initially wandering down the hall.

Hermione raised her wand against the door's lock. Harry remembered Tom's instructions to return to the tower, and he itched to tell Hermione to leave it alone. However, he was curious, as well, so he watched.

"Alohomora."

The unlocked door swung open.

"I can't see anything. It's too dark," Hermione whispered.

Harry glanced down the hall to where Tom had disappeared after Snape. His command echoed in Harry's ears for a moment before he turned towards Hermione and the open door. He followed his friend into the room, tiptoeing into the dark. It was strange how accustomed he already was to the dark corridors and rooms in Hogwarts, and he hardly paused at walking into a pitch black room. Tom had often said that people couldn't always trust Hogwarts, but the school rarely threw anything at the students that they couldn't handle.

Harry only took a few steps into the room, but Hermione wandered further before whispering a spell. The end of her wand lit, and the room was filled with bright light.

Hermione screamed and Harry barley grabbed her arm in time to jerk her away from the huge set of teeth sweeping towards her head. He pulled her out the door and closed it as she quickly relocked it.

As they stood in the hall, Hermione gazed around her to check that they were back in the same place they were before. Harry also looked around, glancing up and down the corridor. His shock from the monster fell away and he jumped to attention when he saw Tom rushing towards him, his spirit form blurred.

"He heard Hermione scream! He's coming!" Tom warned.

Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and they began hauling butt. Vaguely, Harry heard the familiar swoosh of robes and he wondered if Snape could see them. He didn't dare look back and see.

Tom easily caught up and then passed them. When they were back in the main castle, Tom immediately waved Harry over to a large portrait.

"Hide behind this! Go!"

Harry did as he said, quickly pulling Hermione in, as well.

They sat for what must have been hours, trying to get our hearts to slow.

Harry didn't know what was worse; the giant three headed dog or running from Snape.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione and Harry decided not to speak about the three-headed dog incident. Snape knew it was a student in the corridor, and he also suspected it was a Gryffindor. Therefore, Hermione didn't want to be linked to the incident in any way, lest Snape find some clues or grow suspicious.

At least, they agreed not to talk about it to each other. Harry spoke about it with Tom and Neville and Ron all the time, but they had just as many explanations for the monster as Harry and Hermione: none whatsoever.

Tom did have one thing to say, though- "Snape was definitely looking for someone specific."

With no ideas about the creature's purpose in the school or why Snape was looking for someone in a forbidden corridor, Harry returned to his friends and routine.

Everything went back to normal after that. For a while, at least.

When October arrived, more issues arrived along with it- Harry's biggest concerns suddenly revolved around flying lessons.

When Harry was about seven-years-old, Dudley and his friends singled Harry out after school because someone had witnessed Harry talking to Tom in the middle of class, and people began to call Harry crazy.

Harry was walking through a park, heading home. Dudley usually got a ride home with one of his friends and arrived home a good 25 or 30 minuets ahead of Harry. Tom and Harry were walking through a section of the park that was dense with trees, and they were fast approaching Harry's favorite place in the whole park- an old stone bridge, one of the oldest things in the small town where Dudley and Harry lived. Dudley and his friends made themselves know when Tom and Harry were just few a meters from the bridge. Tom saw them first and warned Harry to run, and Harry did. But Dudley had one of his older, faster friends with him and they caught Harry while he was half way across the bridge. Then, they took him by his feet and put Harry over the side, like they were going to drop him. They only let him up when all of the blood rushing to his head almost made Harry loose consciousness. He spent minutes staring at the rocks seven meters below his head while the hands at his ankles slipped on the cloth of his pants and gripped too tightly because the boys holding him didn't have the strength to hold him with steady hands.

Since then, Harry had been terrified of heights.

Tom said that Harry needed to confront his fears. He didn't think that worked, because they had tried before: Tom made Harry walk home over that bridge every day, even when he begged to stay on the main roads. Tom said that walking over the bridge didn't really count as fear. He said Harry wasn't really afraid of the bridge, he was afraid that his cousin was hiding in the woods, waiting to ambush him again.

The day of the first flying lesson, most of the children in his year appeared to be loosing their minds, they were so excited. Even Hermione was anxious to ride a broom, even thought Ron had been making fun of her because she was trying to learn how to fly a broom from a book. He said that no books could help someone fly. Hermione was making it her priority to prove him wrong.

The morning was perfect for flying, and all Harry could think of was all the ways he could keep from having to get on a broom.

Lessons went smoothly until Neville made a scene and broke his wrist.

Everyone in the world knows the rest of the story. Malfoy cried about it for months, if not the rest of the year.

Malfoy had been making snide comments all morning, and Harry had been growing more and more upset with him. Harry was itching to hurt him, and he got the chance when the prick found Neville's remembrall in the grass. Malfoy made a comment about "the stupid, ugly, clumsy oaf" and Harry marched strait over to him and punched him, breaking his nose. Malfoy was so surprised that he tightened his fist around the remembrall and it broke, sending shards of glass into his hand and dousing his hand in singing magic gas.

Crabb and Goyle had to escort Malfoy to the infirmary. Madam Hooch gave Harry three weeks of detention and he had to write an apology to Malfoy.

Nothing of the apology was sincere, of course. But Madam Hooch turned down Harry's first draft after she read it, telling him to stop cussing or she would rinse out his mouth with soap.

He did mean the apology he gave to Neville, though, for breaking his remembrall. Neville graciously accepted his apology, since he'd been present in the infirmary to witness as Malfoy shed a few tears. Then, he told Harry that he would break 30 remembralls if it meant seeing Malfoy enter the infirmary not three minutes after him with twice as many injuries.

After that unhappy event, Malfoy and Harry avoided each other for a while. When Malfoy and Harry got into another of their fights, the teachers enacted a new rule. Harry and Malfoy weren't aloud within three meters of each other. The only person upset with this new rule was Snape. He loved to partner them at potions then blame the resulting chaos on Harry. Harry was happy with it, though. After the new rule went into effect (they placed repelling spells on them and everything) his potions grade shot up two entire letter grades.

October progressed smoothly except for flying lessons (where Harry still refused to rise higher than two meters off the ground), and classes were fine. Harry became familiar with the school, the teachers, and the rules, and he easily fell into life at Hogwarts. As a first year, most of the first few months focused on theory (except for potions. Snape seemed to like the sink or swim method of leaning, so he threw the students into the lake on the first day), but Harry was using his wand more and more, and he became used to the trill of magic. He also appreciated being able to practice the numerous incantations Tom had him memorize before Hogwarts.

Harry waited impatiently for Halloween. He wondered how wizards celebrated the holiday. Muggles dressed up and took candy from strangers (something Harry had never been aloud to do) and it seemed like one of the most fun things in the world. But wizards seemed to make everything more exotic and fun.

It was because of these high expectations that Harry was very, very disappointed to learn that wizards didn't to anything at all to celebrate the holiday.

"Don't look so down, Harry," Tom told him, "There's a feast. Wizards used to celebrate All Hallows Eve, but the day was outlawed during the Dark Ages. The magic used in celebrations was bright and obvious, and it was the one time of the year that Muggles could find our world no matter how well wizards hid. The Muggles could never do any real damage, but it became hard to truly celebrate the day."

Harry conceded that a feast was better than nothing.

Even the feast was disappointing, though. Tom still wouldn't let Harry have candy - the stuff the twins gave him on the train sat in his trunk, only the edges picked away. And besides the extra sweets on the table, there was nothing to separate the meal from any other Hogwarts dinner.

No, the real fun came after the feast, when Quirrell came into the hall screaming about a Troll.

Hermione was in disbelief. "Trolls can't get into Hogwarts," she stated incredulously.

Tom agreed with her.

As the teachers and Prefects led the students from the Great Hall, Ron spoke up.

"Where is Snape going?"

Hermione and Harry shared a glance. They could guess.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Hermione said. "Let's go to bed. We have classes in the morning."

Ron did as she said, grumbling about overachievers and know-it-all's.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry had always loved the cold air of November; the first few days were crisp and the trees were colorful. But then, as the month wore on, there was a smooth transition to the colder winter weather. It wasn't bad winter weather, but good winter weather, where the students could still go outside without worrying about snow, frostbite, or fast acting hypothermia thanks to a few nifty heating spells. The weather was perfect for hot cocoa, which they began serving alongside the pumpkin juice at meals.

Harry also found out that the weather was perfect for Quidditch. The first game was to be played during the first week of the month. It was going to be a Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game, and the house was buzzing with excitement.

"The twins are both beaters," Ron told Harry. "They say that the Gryffindor team is great, except they haven't been able to find a proper seeker in years. So they always have to try to score a lot of goals."

It irritated Harry when Ron talked about Quidditch, mainly because Harry had no idea what Quidditch was. Tom always talked about it, but Harry had always assumed that when he talked about Quidditch, he was just saying the wizarding name for football.

The morning of the match finally arrived, and Hermione and Harry were the only people who had no idea what that meant. An hour before the game was to begin, Tom shut himself away so that he could try to magic himself some Slytherin game gear (apparently, he was a veteran Keeper). So while he was gone, Harry called Hermione over to a quiet corner in the common room where they could have a little meeting.

"Do you know what all the big fuss is?" Harry asked her. He was glad to witness the house pride displayed by his classmates who were dressed in house colors and had their faces painted. However, people could only discuss the game, and it was as if they were speaking a foreign language.

"I tried asking a few people, and they all went into tangents about their favorite plays," Hermione said, wearily watching some upperclassmen as they were painting faces. Percy was being given scarlet and gold stripes which contrasted horribly with his hair.

"Did you check the library?" Harry asked her.

"Madam Pierce told me that all of the books have been checked out for a few weeks- apparently the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, is a little obsessive about the game. I tried talking to him about it, but he made even less sense than everyone else."

They had to cut their meeting short as they were finally assaulted by the upperclassman.

Harry's face had never been painted before. It made him feel very... colorful. One of the girls even put streaks of color into Hermione's hair.

Soon, it was time to march out to the bleachers. Harry hadn't seen Tom for a while and assumed he was sitting on the Slytherin side of the arena. (Tom was always complaining about what headaches Gryffindors could be, and he claimed their house color made his vision swim). Ron chattered beside Harry as they walked. Harry tried to pay attention to him, but Hermione was talking into his other ear, trying to override Ron. Harry decided to pay attention to Hermione because firstly, Harry had no idea who the Chudly Cannons were. And secondly, Harry couldn't stand to look at the redhead; the scarlet and gold looked as horrible on his face as it did his elder brother's.

It wasn't until after the game began that Harry was thankful for Ron's presence. He gave Harry information on everything about Quidditch, and soon, Harry was getting into the spirit of things. Hermione had no such luck- she couldn't hear Ron's voice over the crowd, and so she remained oblivious to the rules of the sport. About 15 minuets into the game (Harry saw that the Gryffindor seeker really _was_horrible, but their team had already scored 50 points and the Slytherins couldn't seem to get the quaffle past Wood), Ron was distracted by something below low on the field, and Harry turned to Hermione so that he could relay the rules he so far undestood. It was when Harry turned to her that he saw the shadow watching him. It reminded Harry of Tom, except that it was much dimmer and clearly less powerful. It disappeared quickly, and although the sight made him pause, Harry quickly dismissed the vision. He went back to watching the game, yelling when everyone else yelled and booing when everyone else booed.

But soon, the cheers of the spectators turned into screams of terror as the stands began to shake and sway. A few seconds latter, wood began to creek in the stands. And more yells rose into the air at the heavy sound of the supports snapping below. As the stands began to split, splinters were sent flying into the crowd, and the students' yelling turned cries of pain.

And then, Harry was falling through a hole in the stands. It was a long fall, and when he looked up, he saw Ron and Hermione barley grasping the edges of the hole that had opened under their seats.

When Harry looked back down, he saw the ground rushing towards him, and he felt his gut twist at the sight.

Then, Tom was there, all green and silver. An arm wrapped around Harry and he threw his palm towards the ground, as if to break the impact with his hand. But then, when they were only a meter from the ground, Harry felt a surge of magic. The magic was from Tom – he was gathering what little magic he had in his hand. The magic left Tom's palm in a flash of light and sound, and it went into the earth. The backlash was all air and wind, and it paused their decent, leaving them suspended in midair. They hung there for a moment before continuing their fall.

However, now instead of falling from a height of thirteen meters, Harry was an arms length from the ground. He landed on the ground with a dull thud instead of the life ending splat he expected.

After Harry recovered and stood, he saw that he was standing in a crater four meters in diameter. The magic's backlash had further damaged the bleacher's support beams, and the stands above Harry were swaying dangerously. When he looked up, Hermione was just being pulled through the gap in the stands.

The precariously balanced bleachers were worrisome, and Harry was upset that his friends were in danger. However, nothing upset Harry more than the fact that when he looked around, he couldn't see Tom.


	14. Chapter 14

Tom wasn't in the infirmary, which was the first place Harry was taken (if nothing else, he did have a few large, very nasty splinters). Tom wasn't in the Great Hall either, which was where Hermione took Harry once Madam Pomfry gave him the go ahead. Tom also wasn't in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry's house mates fussed over him and caused a commotion about the whole thing.

Harry couldn't find Tom anywhere. He even went into the dungeons with the hopes of finding Tom sulking or recuperating in the area of the castle he was most comfortable in.

The days passed, and Tom didn't appear.

Harry was at a loss. Tom had never just...disappeared before. Harry found his friend's absence unnerving. His best friend was gone. His teacher was gone. The only person he could truly rely on, truly trust, was gone.

Hermione was the first to notice the change in Harry's behavior. He was distracted, restless, and irritable. His confidence was faltering, and he seemed unsure.

Harry's dorm mates were the next to notice something off. They hadn't much noticed his sleeping habits before, but they certainly did after he began wandering in and out of the dorms at all hours of the night.

The last to notice were the teachers. A few caught on quicker than others, of course, noticing that he was eating irregular meals and short-tempered with his friends. Others were only alerted that there was an issue when Harry's grades began to drop.

Harry was in limbo. He felt as if a piece of himself had died. He'd never noticed the warm presence of Tom's magic before, a solid weight that draped comfortably over his shoulders and rested at the back of his neck. Harry found it unfair that Tom had spent years trying to teach him to sense his magic, but he could only feel it when Tom was gone. He found it unfair that he could physically feel exactly what was missing.

In the first weeks after Tom's disappearance, Harry spent his time searching for his friend. He sought out Tom's favorite stomping grounds, his favorite hiding places, the secret nooks and crannies Tom had shown him. Harry even wandered to the second floor girl's bathroom in search of his friend.

Tom wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere.

In the following weeks, Harry returned to studying. He returned to his friends. However, the world seemed different.

Classes were harder without Tom leaning over his shoulder to check his assignments. And honestly, classes were less interesting without Tom at his ear, whispering about subjects the professors didn't want him to learn about.

The castle's halls seemed less vibrant. Tom wasn't there to glance around corners or spy on people. He wasn't there to spook the portraits with whatever little energy he had.

Tom wasn't there to point out the flaws and attributes of Harry's schoolmates. Harry found himself weary and distrustful of people he hadn't met before Tom's disappearance.

It was almost December before Harry came back to himself. It wasn't like waking up or resurfacing after being underwater for too long. The process was slow, halting.

Harry saw that people were looking at him strangely, like he would yell at them. That was silly, though, because Harry only yelled at Malfoy.

In class, Professor McGonagall was surprised when he raised his hand to answer a question.

In the mornings, Harry noticed that a lot of people were asking if he slept well.

Then, Harry noticed that he _was_ noticing, when he hadn't noticed much in the previous two months.

Near the beginning of December, Harry's grades improved. He began to eat more, and he spent more time with his friends. Appeased, the teachers stopped keeping their eyes on him and his dorm mates stopped asking him what was wrong.

However, it wasn't so simple with Hermione. They studied together and ate together, as always, but the worried frown on her face didn't disappear. She watched him constantly, and she looked at him as if she knew.

And she did. Harry and Tom had underestimated her. They hadn't seen what she was capable of.

Harry never saw her coming.

Hermione cornered him in the library one weekend during a Hogsmeade Trip. The upper years were out of the school, and the first and second years were taking advantage of their access to all of the best chairs in the almost empty common room, so Hermione and Harry were alone in the library.

Hermione had been fidgeting all morning. Harry didn't suspect anything. He was preoccupied with him homework and thoughts of his missing friend, and if Harry noticed Hermione acting strange, he thought she was only anxious about several projects due in the next week.

Then, near lunchtime, she resolutely closed her book, gave Harry a stair and said, "Harry, we need to talk."

Harry thought he knew what was coming. He thought he would have to simply apologize for his distracted behavior and promise to try and focus. He'd made the promise several times in the past weeks.

But then Hermione said, "You've been acting weird ever since that Quidditch game. Is it because of...that – that person?"

Harry was shocked, and all he could articulate was a feeble, "What? H-how did...what do you..."

"He really does exist, doesn't he?" she whispered

"What do you know about it?" Harry demanded in a voice just as low as hers.

"Oh, please!" Hermione breathed. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her mouth twisted, a sure indication that she was insulted. "I don't know how no one else has seen it! You stare! You stare when there's nothing to stare at! You get that look on your face, like you're listening to something, but there's no noise!" Leaning closer, she hissed, "I've seen you talking to yourself! In the common room, in the library, when you don't know I'm just around the corner! _I've__had__to__make__excuses__for__you,__Harry!_"

Harry stared at her, his mouth suddenly dry. He had to catch his breath before he could ask her, "How long have you known?"

At his breathless tone and clear horror, Hermione calmed a little as she told him, "Months. I mean, it's been months since I thought you were crazy."

"You thought I was _crazy_?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "But I figured if you were crazy, you wouldn't work so hard to hide it. My mom says that crazy people don't know they're crazy. Plus… when I heard some of the stuff you said when you were talking…"

"What stuff?" Harry asked, his heart climbing into his throat.

"Nothing private or anything like that," she assured, blushing at the thought that even if they were best friends, there were probably some things Harry didn't want her to hear. "You were talking about an assignment. At first it sounded like you were talking to yourself, working a problem out loud. Then I realized you were talking to… him… and I noticed that a lot of the stuff you were saying was new information. I-I mean it was stuff you would have to do a lot of research on before you could know about it, but when you were talking like that, it looked like you were coming up with it all on your own without any research at all."

Harry gave a small sigh of relief. It was one thing if Hermione knew he was getting help on his homework. It was something else all together if she had overheard him and Tom talking about dark magic or the old rituals.

"I was only sure after the Quidditch match, though," Hermione continued. "I mean, with what happened when you fell from the stands… and then you were so upset for such a long time… and then I realized you had stopped doing all that stuff you did before. I figured if someone _was_ there with you... they weren't anymore." Here, Hermione paused and recomposed herself before asking, "Harry, what exactly is going on?"

Harry sat frozen in his chair, staring across the table at Hermione. He couldn't believe she knew. He couldn't believe she was asking for an explanation.

Harry didn't know what to do.

Tom would have known what to do. He always knew everything about anything. He would be able to come up with a quick, easy lie which Hermione would accept immediately, without question.

Harry caved, because he realized that Tom wasn't there and Harry had no idea where he was or if they would ever see each other again.

Somehow, for some reason, for how upset and sad and scared Harry had been for the past months, the possibility of never seeing Tom again hadn't occurred to him.

At this sudden idea, Harry felt hopeless. He'd searched for Tom. He'd waited for Tom, and Tom hadn't reappeared. Harry was out of ideas, and he was desperate.

So Harry told Hermione. Not everything, of course. He couldn't tell her about Tom's Horcruxes. Tom had vehemently warned Harry to keep that secret. Harry also didn't tell her about The Plan, or what little he knew of it. He knew Hermione needed to understand more about the wizarding world (as did Harry) before she learned of Tom's intentions to govern the country himself.

But Harry told her almost everything else.

When he was done with his story, Hermione was pale.

"That poor boy," She said. "To be locked in a journal for 50 years. And now that he's gotten out, he doesn't even have a body."

"And now he might be dead," Harry told her, his voice cracking on the words.

Hermione immediately began to deny the possibility, "He wouldn't just die after all of this. He's obviously very strong, even if he doesn't have much magic. I have a feeling it would take more than a fall for him to... to..."

Harry slowly nodded, "Logically, I know that. But it's been months. And I haven't felt even a flicker of him. I haven't seen _any_ trace of him in _weeks_, Hermione. I've even tried to summon him. I don't know what else there is I can do now."

The worst thing about the whole ordeal was that Hermione was stumped, too.


	15. Chapter 15

Telling Hermione about Tom was the best thing Harry could have done. Life certainly became easier after that, when he had someone to talk to.

"So Tom's been with you always?" Hermione asked one afternoon.

Harry shook his head. "We happened into each other when I was four or five. We've been together ever since then, though."

"Always?" Hermione asked.

It was the second time she'd said the word, and Harry studied her as he answered, "Yes. Even when we had a bit of a falling out before school and didn't speak for a month, Tom was around."

"No wonder you're a mess," Hermione told Harry as she shook her head. "I mean, that doesn't sound like a very healthy relationship, to have someone with you every single moment of every single day."

"Why not?" Harry asked. It seemed _natural_ to him.

"I think you and Tom have become really dependent on each other. Like… Now I see that you really relied on him to keep you focused and interested on your schoolwork, and so you don't know how to make it interesting on your own. And when you're in tough situations you pause, like you're waiting for directions. And your _temper_…"

"My temper?" Harry asked.

"You never seemed like an angry person before, when Tom was around. But I think without him here to calm you or channel your anger or whatever it was he did… I suspect he may have fed off of your _energy_ when you were angry, since you were basically his power source. But now that he isn't here to take that energy from you, you don't have any other way to calm or vent, and so that bad energy just kind of builds. You say some really weird things sometimes. Really _violent_ things. I think that with Tom around, you never had the chance to properly develop natural coping mechanisms to some situations."

Harry hated to say it, but he agreed. Since he began talking to Hermione about Tom, he'd noticed that it was easier to talk to other people, as well. Even if he hadn't met them before Tom disappeared. However, he was still distrustful of people he didn't know.

"How do you know if you can trust people?" Harry asked Hermione.

She blinked at the off question. "I don't know," she told him. "I guess you give everyone the benefit of the doubt when you first meet them, and you go from there. Like, with you, I knew I could trust you when you didn't let me get lost during the first week of school, and when you pointed out something missing from a homework assignment, and when you pulled me away from the – that Cerberus when it tried to bite me."

Harry nodded. That all seemed very reasonable. Except, it sounded like it took time. Tom always just knew. Within five minuets of meeting someone, he could tell Harry if the person was friend or foe, harmless or dangerous. It had never occurred to Harry that he should ask Tom to teach him how to look at people.

Harry liked talking to Hermione about issues like those, the way he used to talk to Tom. Sometimes Harry felt bad, because he felt like he was trying to replace Tom with Hermione. He began talking with her about things he had only talked to Tom about, previously. He told her his thoughts and worries, and he didn't have to hold back. He even began talking with Hermione about the nature of light and dark magic, the way he once had with Tom. Harry and Hermione talked about everything.

Well, everything except for his plans to revolutionize the wizarding world. And sometimes, Harry almost let that secret slip because he grew so comfortable with Hermione and so nervous about Tom's continuing absence. Luckily, in times like those, Harry could hear Tom's voice in the back of his mind telling Harry to stop acting like a brat and be patient.

Yes, Hermione was great. However, Harry continued to look for Tom. He even resorted to sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library.

There was nothing to help Harry in the Restricted Section, though. Harry knew he wouldn't find anything. Tom had long ago explained that most books on Horricruxs had been destroyed after Grindelwald . The sorcerer liked to experiment with people's souls, and after people understood the damage which could be done when tampering with the soul, it was agreed upon to destroy any documentation on the subject.

Of course, Tom was born with an innate understanding of the soul, just as Grindelwald. However, he had more respect for the practice and study than Grindelwald. Tom believed the soul was somehow sacred, tied not only to the human, but also to the earth, the Beyondworld, and to the magical currents which flowed and connected the two. He was _sure_ he would have to endure a grand cosmic punishment if he interfered with any soul other than his own.

So the library was a bust, and Harry had to listen to lectures from Hermione for the rest of the year about breaking into areas he didn't belong. She claimed he should have learned his lesson when they first came across the third floor corridor.

Although her lectures were tiresome, there were other positive aspects of Hermione. One was that she made time pass quickly. Before Harry knew it, he was helping Hermione pack her things for winter vacation. As Harry folded one of her shirts, she lectured Harry about "proper conduct" while Harry stayed in the castle.

"I know how you like to get into trouble, and I know Tom encouraged it, but you should probably lay low for a while. That means no sneaking off into the Restricted Section-" Hermione gave Harry a pointed look and he rolled his eyes "- And I know you're friends with Ron and The Twins, but don't let them convince you to slack off. They _do_have homework, whatever they may say."

Harry rolled his eyes yet again. Harry had already finished the reading and homework assigned for the winter holidays, and Hermione knew it.

Finally, Hermione was packed, and she appeared in the boy's dormitory to sit with Harry for a moment, "Maybe I shouldn't go..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. I know I was a mess there for a while, but I can take care of myself. And you said it yourself, I'll have Ron and The Twins. I'll have tons of fun."

"Yeah, but... I know how they are when they get board..."

"If they start doing anything irresponsible, I'll go hang out with Hagrid. I bet he could do with the company. And maybe... I don't know, maybe Tom will come back. Who knows? With all the kids gone, and without classes to distract me..."

"Harry, don't. Just... not while I'm gone, okay? Don't look for him _at__all_ while I'm away. What if something happens?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something like what happened at the game? Or what if _you_disappear? And then no one will know what's going on or where you may have gone, and I wont be there to help you and-"

"I'll be fine, Hermione. I've handled worse. Go spend time with your family. I'll write you every day so that you'll know I'm okay."

Hermione paused, but then grinned and said, "Well, if you're sure."

The next morning, Hermione was on the train and heading off to London. Harry was left on his own. And when Harry was left to his own devices, he usually did anything he wanted to do. And with the castle empty, Harry wanted to find Tom.

The only problem was that Harry didn't know where to look, or more precisely, _where__else_ to look. Harry had searched the entire school from top to bottom. He had preformed a few... slightly dangerous spells (without Hermione's knowledge, of course) in an attempt to locate his friend. Harry had stolen dozens of books from the library. He had tried scrying and meditation. He had even tried reading into some of the dreams he'd had about Tom on the off chance Tom was trying to communicate with him. But nothing was working, and Harry was getting more and more desperate to find his friend.

It was while Ron and Harry were lazing by the windows in the common room when Harry remembered a place that he had yet to look for Tom.

Ron was reading a Quidditch book. Harry was thinking about Tom, of course. He wasn't thinking about where he might be, though. Harry was actually only daydreaming about him, trying to remember a list of books he had suggested Harry read. Harry was thinking about the books he stolen before school started when it came to him, quite randomly and by chance.

Harry hadn't tried the forest.

The forest had been a bad idea. This didn't occur to Harry, though, until he was lost in thy-high snow. He should have known. Even a glance at the forest gave the immediate impression of _bad._And Merlin knows Harry had seen possible dangers while looking down at the forest from the Astronomy tower (why the founders decided to put a school next to a forest full of dark creatures Harry would never know). He wondered what was wrong with him that he hadn't just _stayed__away__from__the__forest_.

And it wasn't like Tom was there.

But somehow, Harry was compelled to search for Tom, and the moment he came up with another idea of how to find him, Harry acted immediately, impulsively, thoughtlessly, and without regard to the school rules, his promise to Hermione, or even his own health.

It was reckless, and Harry cursed himself for realizing only then how truly Gryffindor he was.

After, Harry didn't remember anything about his time in the forest. When he woke up in the hospital wing, Ron told him that he had been wandering outside for three days before he finally stumbled back towards Hogwarts. Ron said Harry hadn't slept, and it was likely he didn't remember the time he spent there because of a magical plant Harry had encountered.

And Harry had been attacked by an animal. Sometimes Harry wonder if maybe he was attacked by a small heard of animals. He also wondered if they _were_actually animals. One of the dark scars on his leg had the vague shape of a hand print...

It was one of the stupidest things he'd ever done, not only because Harry lost three entire days of his life and had permanent scars on his legs, lower back and one on his left arm, but also because Harry received another month of detentions.

And Harry still hadn't found Tom.

He wasn't aloud out of his dormitory for the rest of break. That's what really got him going. He felt like he almost went insane. Harry was used to wandering the halls when he became restless. And how was Harry supposed to study if he couldn't go to the library? He couldn't help Tom take over the Wizarding world when Harry didn't know how to properly go about it.

Harry tried to study for Tom. He really did. But honestly, Harry didn't understand what he needed to know. Similar to how Harry wouldn't tell Hermione about their plans until she was older, Tom was waiting for Harry to gain a better understanding of the wizarding world and magic before he explained some of his ideas to _him_. And then Ron just... He couldn't even find half of the books Harry asked him to get from the library. He didn't want Harry to study. He loved that Harry couldn't burrow away in the library all day. Instead, Harry spent his time playing games with Ron.

It only became better when Harry received an invisibility cloak for Christmas. When he thought over the present, he wondered that Dumbledore was thinking. Hadn't Harry just wandered into the Forbidden Forest for three days? Surely Dumbledore didn't think Harry could be _responsible_ with the cloak. Did he really trust Harry not to abuse its power?

Well, Harry did. And hey! He finally found Tom!


	16. Chapter 16

"He-He's here? Right now?" Hermione asked, her eye's darting around the room nervously.

Harry sighed and shook his head, "Yes. No. I don't know. He said that he tries to check up on me whenever he gets the power and energy, but it takes him a long time to gather that much magic, and it doesn't last very long."

"So..." Hermione paused as a group of fourth years quickly walked by their seats in the common room. When they had passed, she continued. "How does he get power and energy?"

"From me, I think."

Hermione was getting frustrated, Harry could see. She often did when she didn't understand.

"But Harry, you just said that he can only get to you when he has the power and energy. Does he like, try to gather his _own_ magic or... Harry, it just doesn't make sense."

"I've told you a hundred times, Hermione. He and I have this connection. Apparently he's been trying to send me messages in my dreams, but I never remember all of my dreams, so I never know what he's trying to say. He said he gets the messages I send _him_, though. And he's felt the pull of every single summoning spell I've sent towards him. The binding magic of the mirror is stronger than he is, though..."

"You said-" Hermione stopped talking again as Neville scuttled past their chairs and up to the dormitories. "You said earlier that he could get energy from anyone. Couldn't he just get energy from anyone who looked into the mirror?"

Harry thought about that, and he remembered what Dumbledore told Harry about the Mirror of Erised when he caught Harry sneaking off to see Tom one evening. He said men wasted away in front of that mirror. Why _couldn't_ Tom take energy from the people who spent time in front of the mirror? Tom told Harry he could feed off the magic the mirror let off when anyone looked into the glass, too. So shouldn't he have the energy to release himself?

But then Harry remembered- The mirror had been in an unused classroom. No one would ever have gone into it. And Dumbledore moved the mirror to a "Secure Location", meaning a place where no one would find it. And if no one could find it, then no one would look into it.

That revelation scared the crap out of Harry, because A: He didn't know where Tom was anymore. B: No one else would be able to find Tom, either. Not even by inadvertently stumbling upon the mirror. And C: Tom wouldn't be able to get easy energy anymore. Then, although Tom _could_ take energy from almost anyone in the castle, it was easiest to feed form Harry through their connection.

"I guess there's nothing we can do," Hermione said to Harry after he gave his explanation. "At least we know that Tom is alive, and he has some source of energy, so he doesn't _really_ disappear or anything. And we know he'll stay put. Now we just need to find the mirror again."

Easier said then done.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry could honestly say that his first year of Hogwarts was the single worst year of his life. It was far more miserable than any time Harry had spent at the Dursleys. Mostly, it was because Tom was gone. And while Harry did trust Hermione, and Harry did want to tell her everything he knew about the world, there were some things that she wouldn't understand. Like she didn't understand why Harry read books on ancient wizarding times, and ancient wizarding laws.

"Those laws and rules were demolished eons ago, Harry. And they're barbaric. I'm surprised anyone could even find information on them."

Tom could find tons of information on the old ways. He was good at that kind of thing, because he was a spirit. His time wasn't restricted by basic needs like food and sleep, and he didn't adhere to boundaries, like walls and doors (except when he was in the mirror).

Harry also couldn't talk with Hermione about what he thought was truth, and what he thought were lies. His classmates believed everything the teachers told them, but with Tom as an influence in his life, _he_ was the one Harry followed unquestioningly. He had taught Harry long before Hogwarts to question teachers and authority. And maybe Harry could have been won over by a few of the teachers after Tom disappeared, except that when Tom told Harry about some opinion, he taught Harry about every aspect of the issue and aspect of the opinion, so even though Harry followed him somewhat blindly, Harry still understood the reasoning behind their actions, and Harry could easily explain those reasons to other people.

The teachers weren't like that, though. They only taught students _part_ of the problem, and _part_ of the solution, before expecting them to understand.

Harry also understood that he was young, and similar to the way Harry wasn't telling Hermione everything about his plans with Tom until she was older and knew more about the world, Tom didn't tell Harry some aspects of his ideas because he thought Harry was too young or because he wanted Harry to learn it for myself. But the length to which the professors did this was simply insulting.

Besides his issues with the teaching methods at Hogwarts, Harry also had other problems in his first year. His greatest enemy (other than Dumbledore or Draco Malfoy) was the House points system. He found that his popularity depended on how full that little glass jar was. And if any event involved Harry Potter, points were _never_ given to his house. Harry spent the second semester looking for that stupid mirror, and he wasn't thinking about getting in trouble, and he felt no interest in his housemate's attitudes towards him. All Harry thought about was finding Tom and releasing him from his bindings. Thus, he didn't care if he got into trouble.

Hermione also became annoyed with Harry during the second half of the year. Apparently, while his efforts at finding Tom were good and all, she still cared much more about his grades. Grades were something else Harry didn't give much thought to. He already knew most of the class material from Tom and from his studying. Harry knew the material, and Hermione knew he did, too! But no, she became upset that the professors didn't know of his knowledge, as well.

"Harry, what if they hold you back a year? What if they think you don't understand anything that's going on in class?"

"Maybe they do think that. But maybe they don't. Maybe they see how well I do on tests and they think I'm lazy or something." Harry might receive bad grades, but they couldn't _hold__Harry__back__a__year_. Not after they saw how well he did on the end of year exams.

Hermione hated when Harry said things like that. She hated to think that the Professors didn't know something about his intelligence. She liked to think that the teachers were all knowing and all powerful. But they weren't. The all-powerful were from a time before Muggles were introduced into the society. People like Merlin and Revenclaw and Slytherin were the truly powerful, the truly knowledgeable, so Harry didn't care much for the opinions of his professors. Dumbledore and Tom were as close to the old power as wizards could be in the current day and age. And even Tom admits he's nowhere near as powerful as Merlin was.

"That needs to change," Tom would tell Harry. "We need to give the magic of Merlin to our people once again. That won't happen when Muggleborns show such _disrespect_ for our laws and customs. They shape our society to meet their needs, not the needs of magic."

Harry's classmates were annoying, as well. The younger years- first and second - knew to leave Harry alone while he was studying or trying to find spells to help Tom. The older students didn't know him that well, though. Because of the house's loss of points, the older students began escorting Harry around the castle and flanking his every move. Harry hated it enough to curse the entire boy's fifth-year's dormitory while they were sleeping.

There were points taken off for that, as well.

And Harry never had any luck finding Tom. He got mixed up in all sorts of nasty affairs while he was looking for him, though. Harry found himself spying on Snape and Quirrell on more than one occasion. Something (Harry thought it was a very weak Tom lying dormant at the back of their connection) told Harry to take Snape's side. And Harry did. Except that he didn't know what side Snape was on. Harry didn't even know what kind of war was being fought. Harry just knew to expect the best from his potions professor.

Harry also got in the way of a few Centaurs while looking for the mirror in the forest one night. He often wondered if maybe they were the animals that attacked Harry over the Christmas Holidays. Except that they would never hurt a child... They didn't give any indication of recognizing Harry from a previous visit, but he wasn't sure if they would, really. His appearance was much more composed than his first stroll through the forest. He didn't loose his glasses at any point the second time.

Near the end of the year, it all fell into place one day when Harry realized he had searched the entire school for Tom... except for a certain third floor corridor. He thought of the giant three-headed dog. He thought of a more "secure location," and he thought about how people wasted away in front of the mirror.

After piecing together the encounters he'd witnessed between Snape and Quirrell, Harry decided Quirrell wanted the mirror. Soon after, Harry decided he would rescue Tom before Quirrell had a chance to steal the mirror away.

Figuring out how to get past the dog was only difficult until Harry spoke to Hagrid.

When he told her, Hermione didn't like the idea of any of it.

"Why would a professor do something like that?" she asked him, but Harry could see that her belief in the omnipotent professor was wavering, especially after he repeated the conversations between Snape and Quirrell, where Snape was clearly suspicious of the man.

And then, one night, Dumbledore left. Harry thought "Now's the perfect time to get Tom."

Boy, was Harry wrong about that.


	18. Chapter 18

"Harry... Someone's already been through here," Hermione whispered to him.

Those were the first stupid words to ever leave Hermione Granger's mouth. Harry could _tell_that someone had already been through. It wasn't _nothing_that knocked out a fully grown troll.

"Who do you think... What do they want? The mirror?"

Harry nodded, "You know what Dumbeldore said about men wasting away in front of it. I bet some people wouldn't just die in front of it, but they would die to get to it, too."

Hermione nodded in agreement and they continued on through the next door.

"This one to go back," Harry said, thrusting the bottle into Hermione's hand.

"And this one to go forward," she answered, holding up the smaller bottle for Harry.

They both scowled at it their potions.

"It's almost empty," Hermione told Harry when she glanced at his designated potion. "Whoever came before us already drank most of it... Maybe we should..." She trailed off as she saw the look Harry was giving her. She sighed and held the bottle out to him. "Fine. But I'm going to go back for help. Don't drink yours until I've been gone a bit, so that if something happens in there, we'll be close by."

Harry nodded. "OK. But remember, I've been waiting for this for months, and I won't be interrupted before I can get Tom out of there. Got it?"

She nodded and moved forward. They briefly hugged before Hermione moved away and downed half the potion in her hand. When no negative affects of poison immediately appeared, the two nodded to each other. Hermione turned on her heal and ran through the fire and towards help.

Harry stood for a moment, wondering about what waited for him on the other side of the fire. In his every fantasy, what he found would be big, and scary, and horrible. But no matter how horrible it was, Harry couldn't force himself to be afraid. He knew that Tom was somewhere behind the fire, and not even a dragon could keep Harry from rescuing him. Even if Harry had to smash the mirror, an ancient and powerful artifact, he would somehow do it.

Taking a deep breath, Harry put the tiny glass bottle to his lips and licked at the last of the potion. He waited for the cold to seep into his every last poor before closing his eyes and forcing himself to move through the fire.

He gave a sigh of relief after he had passed through without catching on fire.

Sadly, his sigh of relief alerted the other presence in the room to his arrival, and Professor Quirrell whipped around to face him.

"I should have known you'd be coming to cause trouble. If you-" he cut himself off and paused before quietly saying, "Yes... I'm sorry mast... yes..."

Quirrell looked to Harry, and Harry felt proud for not letting his surprise show. He guessed he wasn't the only one who decided to take advantage of Dumbledore's absence. Of course, he should have known. Harry quickly caught on to Quirrell's stutter free speech, and he knew that Quirrell was stronger than he let on. It reminded Harry of something Tom would do...

He looked behind Quirrell, at the mirror. Harry saw Tom there. But Tom's eyes wasn't focused on Harry. He was staring hard at Quirrell. Tome had a familiar glint in his eye. There was a little spark which he couldn't hide when he was particularly proud of himself, proud of a plan, proud of an idea. This expression usually only appeared when Tom was thinking up something particularly nasty.

Quirrell followed Harry's eyes and grinned.

"Come here, Potter. Do you know what this is?"

Tom's eyes flashed towards Harry. His expression was the same as the day in Diagon Alley, when the man caught Harry stealing the Death Eater book. Tom's look demanded, _lie_.

"It's a mirror," Harry answered.

Quirrell grinned, his smile mean. "Come here. Take a look."

Harry didn't hesitate to move. After all, Tom was _right__there_.

Tom's eyes refocused on Quirrell as Harry made his way down the steps and into the large circular room. When Harry stood in front of Tom, the spirit's confidence was apparent and loud. Harry could almost see the gears moving in his head.

"What do you see?" Quirrell asked.

Tom's eye's flickered to Harry again, and he shook his head.

"I- I see... A house."

Tom's eyebrows rose in disbelief, and the expression conveyed a very simple, familiar command. _Lie__better_. The look was usually followed by the words, "That's the best you can do? Really, Harry. I expected better from you." But Tom didn't have to say the words for Harry to know he was thinking them. So Harry kept going.

"And I see people... my parents! They're alive! And there are others... There are little boys. And we're all playing Quidditch. And-"

_"He's lying!"_

Harry's stomach sank at the those words, then his scar seared in pain. Quickly, he whipped around and looked for the source of the unfamiliar voice. All Harry saw was Quirrell.

"What do you see?" Quirrell shouted to him.

"Who said that?" Harry asked. He hadn't felt so scarred since... since before he met Tom. The hairs on his arm were standing on end, and a tremor was working its way down his spine. Then, Harry heard Tom's voice.

"Harry, quick. Give me some energy."

"How?" Harry whispered, still staring at Quirrell's reddening face. The man paused at his peculiar question. But Tom responded.

"Touch the glass. Just step back against the mirror."

Backing away from that man, that voice, was a wonderful idea, and Harry threw himself against the glass.

"Get away you fool! You'll break it!"

Before Quirrell could move forward and pull Harry away, a jolt of magic traveled up his spine, opposite the tremble he hadn't been able to stop since first hearing that voice. It felt as if suction cups were sticking to his veins and pulling at him.

Soon, Harry found himself shoved to the ground just as Quirrell moved to level his wand between Harry's eyes. Harry glanced to the mirror and to Tom, who was flexing his fingers at the sudden influx of magic. He watched Quirrell with narrow eyes.

_"Let me talk to him."_

"But-but master! You aren't strong enough!" Quirrell whimpered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his place on the floor.

_"Do not question me!"_

Quirrell mumbled incoherently for a moment before dropping his wand away from Harry. A moment latter, the man reached back to unravel his turban.

Harry couldn't look at him. He already knew what he would see. He knew the moment he heard that high, chilling voice. After all, a cursed scar doesn't lie.

But Harry couldn't keep his eyes away when the last of the turban fell to the ground.

Hundreds of thoughts and questions ran through his head when Harry saw Voldemort. Strangely, only the stupid useless thoughts lingered. As Voldemort sneered down at him, all Harry could think of was how that creature didn't look a thing like Tom. There was absolutely no resemblance between the two.

Harry didn't hear the creature's first few words. He could only concentrate on his strange appearance. He was ugly... And his voice had a high note to it, and the distortion didn't allow him to even sound similar to Tom.

And then there was the way he spoke to Harry. His tone was one of absolute disgust, revulsion. Tom had never spoken to him in that tone before.

Then, the creature was moving towards Harry. He recognized the hand it was holding down to Harry as one of friendship. Harry reacted on pure instinct, and his instinct was screaming at Harry to claw its eye's out. So when Harry took the hand, he didn't let go when his skull felt like it was splitting apart, or when the combined screams of Voldemort and Quirrell filled his ears. He only let go when Tom told him to.

"Damn it, Harry!"

Harry ripped his hand away and cringed at the smell of burning flesh.

Trying to find something to block out the pain and the smell and the screaming, Harry looked at Tom.

He was literally ripping himself from the mirror. He punched and kicked at the glass until his entire top half was pushing though the mirror. After he had gained movement outside the mirror, Tom reached towards Quirrell. Then, Quirrell's screams doubled as Tom unrepentantly sucked the magic from the man. Voldemort screamed, too, and Harry covered his ears.

When his ears were no longer ringing, Harry slowly lowered his hands and looked up at Tom's solid, shimmering form.

He grinned at Harry and said, "Wow, Harry. You really tore them up. Even draining the rest of their magic can't fully restore me!"

Harry didn't answer. He couldn't. He still felt as if his skull was split open, and he was still trying to recover from the echoing pain of Voldemort's touch.

Tom smiled down at him. "It's OK to sleep."

So Harry did as Tom suggested and laid his head down against the floor.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry woke up at dawn, but he decided against alerting anyone to his condition, and instead Harry went back to sleep.

He only began to show signs of life near noon, after drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours.

Sadly, Hermione was the first person Harry saw. Harry loved the girl, really, but after the previous evening, he was disappointed when he didn't see Tom.

"Harry," she said, her tone unimpressed, "Will you please just get up already? I know you want to sleep, but Dumbledore comes to check on you every day around 1 o'clock, which is in thirty minuets. He'll know you're awake, and I really need to talk to you before he and Madam Pomfrey force me out of the Infirmary."

Sighing, Harry pushed himself up to sit against the headrest.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice scratchy from disuse.

Hermione shook her head as she bit her lip, which Harry recognized as one of her nervous habits.

"Then what...?"

"I just... I was worried about you, Harry... Tom has been in contact with me and-"

"He has?" Harry asked excitedly, "How?"

Hermione's forehead wrinkled, "He just... has, OK? That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. He told me... He doesn't want you to tell Dumbledore the truth."

"Where is he?"

"I'm sure he's on his way," Hermione told Harry, "I told you he'll come at one o'clock and-"

"No, I mean... where's Tom?"

"He's hiding. I don't know, it's all so confusing. He's a spirit, and he's not powerful enough to conjure a body. But at the same time, he's become... he said he was 'within Dubledore's sight.' He's a little tiny ball of energy on the 'map of things. ' I have no idea what Dumbledore thinks, and-" Hermione shook her head angrily, "Don't get me off track Harry! We only have five minuets at the most! OK, Tom said that you can't tell Dumbledore what you were really doing down there. He wants you to make something up, instead."

"No one can lie to Dumbledore," Harry informed Hermione. "Tom knows that. He made sure I understood that before I even received my letter, before we even knew he was still at the school."

Hermione viciously shook her head. She glanced around the sunny and wonderfully empty infirmary before leaning so close her lips touched his ear. And even that close, Harry could barley hear her say, "Yes you can. Tom said he walked in on a private lesson Snape was giving Malfoy." Her voice went even quieter when she said, "Dumbledore and Snape know mind magic. Don't look into his eyes, and you can lie."

"But Hermione, one of the foremost rules of deceit is that if the person isn't looking into your eyes, they're lying!"

Hermione gave a pained look. She and Tom hadn't thought of that.

"Harry, what are we going to do?"

Harry collapsed back onto the bed and sighed, throwing an arm over his face. When it made contact with his skin, Harry had what he thought was a genius idea.

Harry suddenly moaned in pain.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice rising and octave in panic. "Harry? What's the matter?"

"My scar," Harry moaned, "It hurts. I have the most horrible headache... Please get me something...?"

Within seconds she had placed a wet, warm washcloth over the top half of his face. As she sympathetically pat his arm, she said, "Oh, Harry. I hope that helps. Maybe Madam Pomfrey will have a potion-"

"A potion for what? Oh! Potter! You're awake!"

Harry listened as the woman walked to his bed with a quick, purposeful stride.

"How are you feeling Mr. Potter?" she asked, "And what on Earth is this?"

She lifted the washcloth from his face only to quickly replace it when Harry flinched.

"He's got a headache, ma'am, and his scar is hurting," Hermione grimly informed her. "I thought a warm washcloth would make him more comfortable."

"I'll just need to lift it off while I check your eyes and you temperature. It won't take more than a moment," Madam Pomfry informed Harry.

So Harry allowed her to lift the cloth from his face and prod him with her wand a few times. She replaced the cloth just as the Infirmary doors opened and Dumbledore walked in.

"Harry! You're awake! Dear boy, what is on your face?"

"A warm cloth, sir," Hermione answered for him. "He woke up with a headache."

"Yes, yes, I suspected as much... Harry, do you think you are well enough for a visit to my offi-"

"Certainly not!" cried an indignant Nurse. "He just woke up from a three day coma! He is far too weak! How could you even- Not to mention that headache of his! I don't have anything for the pain of cursed scars! To even think of-"

"My apologies, Poppy!" Dumbledore hastily interrupted. "As it is... I need to speak with the boy alone. Poppy, if you would please retrieve a potion for his headache? And Miss Granger? Don't you have one more exam to study for?"

"Yes, I do. I'll see you latter, Harry. Maybe after dinner?"

"OK," Harry agreed.

He heard Madam Pomfrey's quick stride and Hermione's quieter, more hesitant steps moving out of the room. When the two women were gone, Dumbledore quietly said, "Harry? How long has your scar been hurting?"

How to answer, how to answer?

"A few... a few weeks sir... on and off."

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry?"

Oh, good one.

This time, Harry hesitated. "I thought I was being stupid?"

Harry felt like an idiot. Dumbledore wouldn't have to read his mind to know he was lying.

Quickly, Harry said, "I mean, I thought I was just imagining it. Exams were coming, and I was studying so much... I thought it was just stress. All the other kids were complaining about headaches, too."

After the words left his mouth, everything came together.

Harry would talk, and when he paused, Dumbledore would fill in the blanks: Unicorn blood (which Harry let him think was the reason he was out in the forest over the Winter Holidays), the curse scar (which was now painless, what with Voldemort being gone and all), the Mirror of Erised (which Dumbledore believed Harry thought was just another obstacle or allusion in a long line of protective barriers), and finally, The Sorcerer's Stone (which Harry had absolutely no idea of, and couldn't bring himself to care about).

In the end, Dumbledore told him, "You've done a very great thing. You stopped one of the evilest wizards this world has ever seen. You almost gave your life for us."

Oh, whatever. All Harry wanted was Tom back, and what Harry wanted, he got.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry peered at Tom curiously. At least, he _though_ it was Tom that he was looking at. Tom's hair was still a deep black and it curled gently around his face, and he still towered over Harry in height. The shape of his face was the same... But nothing else was. His long pointed fingers had shrunk and rounded. His bright red eyes had turned a pail green color. And his smile, while very much the same, wasn't the same at all without long pointed teeth. His skin was pale and sallow, as opposed to the healthy tan his skin held before. The change made him look more human, but at the same time he looked less alive.

"Like it?" Tom asked Harry. Harry nodded his head vigorously as he grinned.

It would take some getting used to, but Harry thought that he could learn to love and appreciate this new grin just as much as he loved Tom's old pointy smile.

"Is that what you used to look like?" Harry asked, "When you were a whole person, I mean."

Tom nodded, watching Harry as Harry watched him.

"And so then that's what you'll look like when you're alive again?"

Tom gave a sad shake of his head.

"No?" Harry asked, "Why not?"

Tom ran a hand through his hair and made himself comfortable against the chair in the Gryffindor common room. Harry recognized this gesture. It meant that Tom was getting ready for a long story.

"My appearance changes as the amount of magic and energy I have changes. When you first let me out of the journal, I saw all the different levels of my appearance. My sub-human appearance, when I had claws and sharp teeth – that was one of my weakest forms, because I was closest to death and drawing some energy from the Beyondworld. Now, I'm vaguely corporal. This is... an almost human appearance, you see? I'm almost a ghost, like Nearly Headless Nick or the Bloody Barron. This was my appearance when I split my sould and... died, in a sense. I'll change though, once I'm alive and whole again, because I'm not that child anymore, you see? Being a spirit independent of a body – it's changed me. I'm not going to be bound to the image I had before my death, because I'm something different."

"Wow," Harry gasped. "So those are all the stages?"

"Oh, no," Tom told him. "I discovered one other level of being after the Quidditch match, before I was bound to the mirror and began to draw energy from it. At that level... I was almost nothing. I had no physical form and hardly any thought. It took everything I had, every bit of magic, every bit of willpower, to keep from breaking apart and rejoining the Earth's magic or moving on to the Beyondworld."

"What?" Harry asked shrilly. "You could have _really,__really_ died? But then why didn't you-?"

"I took precautions, Harry. I've taken many precautions to make sure that I won't die. These last few years when I was left unbound to a solid anchor, like the journal, while in my weaker existence of being, there's always been this nagging in the back of my heart. I've heard whispering voices in my ear, telling me to just move on, let you be. A connection already existed between us, so I worked to strengthen that connection so that _you_ were an anchor, of sorts, and as long as there was an exchange of magic between us, those whispers disappeared."

"So then after the Quidditch match where you used almost all of your magic, you were almost destroyed?" Harry asked breathlessly. He was astounded by the bravery and knowledge his best friend possessed. "How did you survive? How did you know what to do?"

Tom grinned at his tone, then continued, "Luckily, I've been in that nearly nothing state once before while being bound to the journal, and when I returned to that state, I remembered what to do. I needed to find a container, something that would protect me and keep me safe. Of course, that's very, _very_, hard to do when you have no body, no power, and hardly any sense left. The first time I was in that state, there was a second part of me, the other part, still conscious and able to guide my spirit somewhere. Nothing was guiding me this time, though, so I didn't have much time to find a new... a new journal, so to speak. So I searched the castle, looking for something, anything that would keep me safe and hidden for a while. I found the Mirror. It was perfect: Not enough people went snooping around it so as to find out I was taking refuge there. But at the same time, people went near enough and put enough emotion into it that I could sap bits of their power to rebuild myself. It would have taken longer if you hadn't found me, but I eventually would have been able to escape by myself."

"That's how you were able to leave the mirror and attack Quirrell?"

Tom nodded, "And of course, what better way to attack him then to take the remaining life force from him?" Tom asked, proud.

"The remaining... What?"

Tom took a deep breath before continuing. "Voldemort was not a whole person, Harry. He hardly had an ounce of power to him. But he had more power than Quirrelle. And to make room for himself- to make it so that he could fit comfortably inside of Quirrell and had plenty of control over him, he broke apart and destroyed quite a bit of Quirrell's magic."

"Why couldn't he just take it, like you do?"

Tom grinned at Harry, "He didn't have enough of a soul. There are other ways to get power and gain life, of course. But the best way to get power is by using Soul Magic. Magic connected to the soul is actually very easily passed from one person to another. However, Voldemort had such a _small_ soul, that even with all his magic and power, he couldn't overtake another soul of any sort."

Tom lapsed into silence, and Harry contemplated this new knowledge. Finally, he asked, "So... Did you take Voldemort's magic? Is that how you killed him?"

Tom sneered, "I don't want his filthy stolen magic. How any part of me could be so idiotic as to kill a unicorn- Disgraceful! If I could-" Tom stopped, flinching.

"What?" Harry asked him, "What is it? What's going on?"

"Dumbledore," Tom said simply.

Harry's heart filled with dread, "In the hospital wing... Hermione mentioned..."

Tom nodded, "He can sense me."

"But how? He never could before!"

"Yes, but before, I hardly had any magic or power at all. Now, I have more magic than a ghost."

"He thinks you're a ghost?" Harry asked.

"No. I'm too powerful to be a ghost. He thinks I'm the beginning of a second poltergeist. He's trying to figure out what's caused me, since the school already has a poltergeist feeding off the wild teenage emotions of the school. He's afraid that Peeves has gotten picky about his income, and that he's refused to accept certain emotions, like hate or sorrow. Dumbledore's afraid that I'm a dark poltergeist in the making."

At this idea, Tom grinned as if he _was_ Hogwart's new Poltergeist.


	21. Chapter 21

"So he's… he's here? Right now?" Hermione asked, gazing around the train's compartment.

Beside Harry, Tom rolled his eyes at the girl and crossed his arms.

"Yeah," Harry told her. "He's sitting next to me."

"Wow," she whispered. "And there's some chance that he could be alive again, so he's not a ghost like Nearly Headless Nick?"

Harry shook his head. "But you can't see him?" he asked Hermione.

"Of course not," she snapped.

Harry glanced between Tom and his friend. "Then how did you talk to him that morning I was in the infirmary?"

Hermione shrugged. "_He_ talked to _me_. I was walking through the annex's South Wing. The one with all the mirrors, you know?"

Harry nodded, eager to hear of what great things Tom was now capable of.

"Well he just… _appeared_ in one of the mirrors, right next to me, and he started talking. And I mean, I was horrified at first, but I almost immediately knew it was him. I mean, he was exactly how I pictured him after all those times you described him and all those stories you'd told about him."

"You appeared in a _mirror_?" Harry asked Tom. "I thought you'd never go near a mirror again, after being stuck in one for so long."

Tom shook his head. "Mirrors are more than shiny panes of reflective glass, you know. Mercury has powerful magical properties, and mirrors especially act as a portal for spirits. Reflective surfaces are ideal for communicating with the dead."

Of course, Tom knew all about death and spirits and communication between realms. He had been a sprit, half alive, for over half a century.

"What did he say?" Hermione asked eagerly, and Harry remembered that she couldn't see or hear Tom. Harry rushed to repeat Tom's reply, and Harry watched as her forehead wrinkled in thought.

"Reflective surfaces?" she asked. "So then… I'd even be able to see Tom in a pool of water, or a window or something?" She squinted at the window behind Tom's head. He gave Harry a wink, then turned around and sent a bit of magic into the glass.

Hermione squeaked in surprise when she saw the vague, weak reflection in the glass. She'd seen Tom once before, though, so she got over her surprise quickly. Soon, she was only in awe of Tom's power. "He's really clever, isn't he?" she asked Harry.

He glowed with pride as he nodded. Harry loved feeling that someone else _knew_, someone else _appreciated_ Tom, and someone else understood why Harry liked the guy so much.

Harry began having nightmares that summer. After his encounter with Quirrell, he began to understand just how much power went into some of the magic that Tom liked to play around with, and he also understood just how fragile and dangerous powerful magic could be.

"Voldemort's really dead, right?" Harry pressed after a particularly bad nightmare.

Tom made a strange sound in the back of his throat.

"What?" Harry asked. "He's dead, right?"

"I didn't _kill_ him, Harry. The guy was crazy but… he was a part of me. He wasn't a big part of me, since his soul had been split so many times. But he was still a part of me, and I couldn't just kill him."

"You mean he's still out there somewhere?" Harry asked, panicked.

"No, Harry," Tom sighed. "I reabsorbed him. That's partially the reason I've grown more powerful; my soul is a little more complete."

"Reabsorbed?" Harry asked, a little breathless. "So he's… he's inside you now?"

"Don't look at me like that, Harry," Tom demanded, a frown stretching across his face. "Stop it."

"But…" Harry softly argued. This was like when he'd initially learned that his best friend had tried to kill him when he was a baby. That had been better, though, because _Tom_ hadn't tried to kill him, it had been some madman named Voldemort. However, that madman had not only tried to kill Harry a second time, but he was now _part_ of Tom.

"_I_ absorbed _him_," Tom reminded Harry. "I mean it. The portion of soul he made up, it was _tiny_. It had no self control to begin with. It certainly didn't have the self control to override my power or my life-force."

"So then… that's it? He really _is_ gone?" Harry asked.

Finally, Tom sighed, "Yes, Harry, he's gone. At least, his conscious is. That ass-hole didn't even have mind enough to give me his spells, damn it. No spells, no memories, nothing!" Tom was beginning to rage, and he stood from his small bed, pacing back and forth across Dudley's second bedroom. "Do you know how useful that would have been, to have memories of his army, his enemies, the current political system – It has been _fifty__years_ since I've had any experience with functioning in the wizarding world. If I'm going to revert one of my horcruxs, the least the other piece of me can do is give me some information!"

"But what about the book?" Harry reminded. The moment Tom became upset, he forgot all about his own concerns. He much preferred to focus on Tom's.

Tom had forbidden Harry from so much as opening the Death Eater's book during the school year, so it was still safely packed away at the bottom of his trunk, which had been safely locked away in the cupboard under the stairs.

Tom sighed at Harry's reminder. "The book is great, don't get me wrong. But even Voldemort isn't crazy enough to record _everything_. I assure you, he had spells, he had names, he had information that he would never, ever write down. Still, I guess loosing all that information was worth it if the alternative meant actually _sharing_ a mind with that maniac," Tom shuddered and made a nasty face at the thought. His teeth weren't sharp anymore, but his grimace was still somehow shark-like.

"I'm glad," Harry finally told him. "I wouldn't like Voldemort hanging around me while I slept."

"Neither would I," Tom grumbled.


	22. Chapter 22

Dudley couldn't go a whole week without insulting Harry. Of course, Tom was the one who took it personally, and he retaliated in the old way: he collected all of the spiders in the house and put them in Dudley's bed while he slept.

After Harry's grand exit at the end of the previous summer, hisrelatives weren't going to stand for _any_ sort of dramatics this summer, and on Sunday, Harry's uncle drove him to London without remorse.

Of course, Harry had already spent a summer in London, so he knew exactly where the Leaky Caldron was and he easily directed his uncle to the magical street corner.

Tom, the barkeeper, recognized Harry instantly.

"Harry!" He greeted enthusiastically. "And Hedwig," he cooed, putting a cubby finger through the cage to pat her head a bit. "What can I do for the two of ya?" he asked, straitening.

"I'll need a room for the summer," Harry told him.

Tom didn't so much as blink at the request, since Harry had spent an entire month above his tavern the summer before.

"I'll give you room seven," Tom said brightly, already moving behind the counter for the keys.

Tom shook his head, his eyes darkening. "You don't know how lucky you are, Harry. I wish it had been as easy for me to just…leave the orphanage and stay in a room right next to Diagon Alley for the _entire __summer_."

And Harry _was_ lucky. He spent most of his days either outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor or Flourish and Blotts with a book. He often saw people from school, and soon began to recognize regular customers around the Alley. Tom liked being close to Knocturn Alley, where people openly practiced dark magic.

Harry was excited because he was able to see Hermione twice that summer, once when she and her mother were visiting London and again when she came to buy her school books.

"You're _living_ here?" Hermione asked. She sat with Harry in his room, which really _did_ look like his room. Harry had packed his clothes in the dresser, and dirty laundry littered the floor of the closet. His invisibility cloak was hanging on the cloak hanger next to the door, and his shoes littered the floor under the bed. Ron had sent Harry some posters for his birthday, and Harry had taken down the Leaky Cauldron's pictures to hang the posters on the walls instead.

"Sure," Harry told her. "I've told you that I don't get on with my relatives, haven't I?" Harry had told her stories about them, but everyone told bad stories about their relatives from time to time, so Harry wasn't sure if he'd conveyed his true distaste for them.

"Well yeah, but enough to run away?"

Tom scoffed from the mirror. "They kicked him out, Hermione."

Hermione jumped at the faint voice emanating from the mirror. She was comfortable with Tom, but she wasn't quite used to him yet. He sat in front of the worn wooden vanity, fidgeting with his Slytherin tie.

"They _kicked __you __out_?" Hermione cried. "Why?"

"Tom put spiders in my cousin's bed," Harry answered proudly.

"They kicked him out because they don't like magic," Tom interrupted. "They're afraid of it."

Harry nodded along with Tom.

"They've never liked it much," Harry continued. "But when Hagrid came to fetch me for school last summer, he kind of destroyed the front door, and he lost his temper when he found out they kept me under the stairs, so he ruined the banister as well. My aunt and uncle agreed to _try_ letting me back in the house this summer, but it didn't work out."

Hermione was shaking her head. "They kept you in a cupboard?" she asked. "But…But… _Why_?"

"Because they're afraid of magic," Harry said, repeating Tom's eloquent explanation.

"They were trying to _suppress_ his magic, Hermione. They were hoping it would just… fade away," Tom continued, again offering an explanation Harry hadn't really thought of. "Muggles don't understand magic."

"My parents do," Hermione said proudly.

Tom shook his head. "They're Muggles, aren't they?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Then they don't understand magic. They have no idea what you're doing at Hogwarts."

"They get progress reports-"

That was the first Harry'd ever heard of progress reports being sent out of parents. His were sent to his relatives, and he latter learned that they threw the wizard mail away before even opening it.

"That doesn't mean they have any idea what you're doing. Do they even understand the grading system?" Tom asked.

Hermione's mouth worked for a moment.

Harry simply shrugged the conversation off. "At least your parents didn't try to suppress your magic or anything like that."

"Suppress my magic?" Hermione cried, her eyes wide.

Harry nodded wisely as if he had any idea what he was saying. Harry wasn't sure how magic _could_ be suppressed. He latter learned that that was the whole point: magic _couldn__'__t_ be suppressed.

The rest of his summer passed pleasantly. Harry relished Tom's presence, which was constant and much more solid than it ever had been before despite Tom's claims of being almost ghost-like. They spent most of their time reading the Death Eater book. Harry recognized the names of some of his classmates, and he enjoyed digging up dirt on Draco Malfoy's parents. He and Harry hadn't fought much during the second half of the year because of the repelling spells, but they still glared at each other whenever their eyes met.

Second year was truly Harry's first year at Hogwarts. The previous year, he'd been so torn up about Tom's disappearance that he hadn't paid much attention to his classmates, his teachers, or his studies. He'd only cared about finding and rescuing Tom. It was also very different because Dumbledore was somewhat aware of Tom, and therefore Tom spent most of his time hiding from the man. His absence wasn't the same as the previous year, though, because Harry knew he was only in the dungeons or Slytherin's chamber. Without his constant hovering presence, Harry had the chance to _really_ spend time with the other students in the school and get to know them. Tom was perfectly happy with this because he was allowed to see his basilisk again, and he said it gave Harry time to work on "his half."

Harry still didn't see himself as an influence, though. While he met and got along with more people during second year, he still wasn't friends with too many of his classmates. Neville and Harry got on well again, and Harry got on with Dean pretty well. Besides those two, Ron, and Hermione, though, Harry wasn't truly friends with anyone in his own year. He was friends with quite a few third years, and Harry liked some of Fred and George's friends, and there were even a couple first years that Harry became friends with, but… Harry just wasn't an _influence_.

Instead, Harry was gossip. After all, everyone did know him. They also knew the new Defense teacher. And Lockhart… the guy really got on Harry's nerves. He _fueled_ the roomers surrounding Harry, especially if they involved the professor, as well. It infuriated Harry, and he was honestly rooting for Snape when the two got into a…confrontation at the end of the year. The… _confrontation_ ended with Lockhart resigning from his position at the school so that he could attend a press tour. During the press tour, Lockhart addressed the accusations claiming that he had admitted, under the compulsion of a truth serum, that he hadn't preformed _any_ of the heroic deeds he claimed in his books.

It wasn't until after second year and midway through summer break, after Harry had already been kicked out of his family's house and had taken another room at the Leaky Cauldron, that Harry understood why he might be an influence.

Hermione knocked on his bedroom door at ten at night, while Harry was getting ready for bed. He quickly hid the dark arts book he'd been reading over with Tom and answered the door, only to be pushed aside by a sobbing Hermione as she threw a lumpy duffle bag to the ground and collapsed on his bed.

"Hermione?" Harry gasped. "What's going on?"

"You were right! _Tom_ was right!" she cried.

"What?" Harry asked, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. He'd never seen Hermione cry before. She usually stood very strait, very tall, and now Harry didn't even understand what she was saying.

"I-I finally got the cou-courage to ask my mum and da-ad about when I was a kid," she sniffled, pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbing at her eyes. "I asked them about my-my-my magic, and you were right! They said they were ho-orrified when I was little. Mum thought I was possessed or-or something!"

Harry had no idea what to do. At the time, his memory of the brief, seemingly meaningless conversation the year before was fuzzy at best.

It took Harry a moment to realize that Hermione, whose home life he had always been somewhat jealous of, was having problems with her parents because of her magic.

"But, Hermione," Harry argued weakly, "You're parents love you, right?"

"Of course they do!" she cried. "Except that it's different than how they used to love me! I mean, my accidental magic was really wild when I was real small, but it calmed when I was about six or seven, and they assumed that whatever was wrong with me was over, and they were really shaken up when I got his letter because they realized that not only had the problem _not_ gone away, but the problem was way bigger than they initially suspected. And that's what they called it, Harry – They called it a _problem_!"

Hermione stayed with Harry for two nights before finally going home to her parents. Harry saw her a week latter, when she was shopping for her supplies for the year.

When she was finished gathering her supplies, they sat down for some ice cream and Harry asked, "How is it with your parents?"

"Oh, it's fine," she said somewhat dismissively, watching her parents, who were still inside the shop and fawning over the ice cream flavors. "I mean, you were right, they still love me. But then, you were also right when you said that they didn't understand. I tried sitting down with them to _really_ explain what I'm doing at Hogwarts and it was like I was trying to speak to them in German. Then the more I spoke, the more uncomfortable my mother became. It just… it wasn't very fun."

It got Harry thinking… he honestly thought that he was a rare case of a magical child living in a Muggle environment, and Harry thought Tom was an extreme case. But maybe… maybe Muggle parents really _couldn__'__t_ handle their magical children.

He saw Seamus Finnigan a week before school. He and Harry weren't great friends, but they got along well enough that he wasn't startled with Harry joined him in the shops.

"You're father's a Muggle, right?" Harry asked him after he said good-bye to his mother. "Does he ever come to the Alley with you and your mum?"

Seamus shrugged. "Sometimes, if they come on a weekday."

"He's not comfortable with all the magic?" Harry guessed.

Seamus shook his head. "He's used to the magic around the house, but when he comes here and it's everywhere, he's a little overwhelmed. It makes him uneasy."

"Because he doesn't understand magic?" Harry guessed. Misunderstanding seemed to be the issue with Hermione and her parents.

Seamus blinked. "Yeah, you know, I guess that's right. Mum always explains the spells she does at home, just like dad always explains the telly and the blender to her whenever he uses them."

Harry laughed, because this reminded him of Ron's father, whom Harry had met both the previous summer and at the beginning of that summer, as well. The man would love to have a Muggle on hand to explain things like blenders and remote controls.

However, Harry wasn't laughing latter that evening when he was thinking over the conversation.

"It's not like Seamus is unhappy," Harry told Tom. Harry was partially talking to himself, though, because he couldn't tell why he was uncomfortable from their conversation. Seamus wasn't like Hermione or him. They had grown up among Muggles who didn't understand magic and were scared of it. It seemed like Seamus grew up with a healthy balance between magic and non-magic, so he couldn't figure out why the conversation was nagging at him.

Tom shook his head at Harry. "He's still missing out on experiences with his parents. His father won't want to take him to his favorite shop because the shop is in a magical area, and I bet his mother wouldn't accompany him to a shop in Muggle London for the same reason. He has to choose between magic and non-magic sometimes, and his parents have to choose, too."

"He said it was just because his father didn't understand," Harry told Tom. "Just like Hermione's parents and my relatives."

"You think your relatives didn't treat you right because they don't _understand __magic_?" Tom snarled, his ghost green eyes narrowing. "Don't compare your situation with Hermione's or that twat Seamus'. They were with their parents."

Tom and Harry had rarely spoken about their parents, or lack thereof, during the past few years, and when Tom _did_ talk about family, he always got a little worked up.

"Your relatives don't treat you the way they do because they don't understand, Harry. They were horrible because they were fearful and jealous. You have something big that they _can__'__t_ have, and it makes you better than them, and they hate you for it."

Harry became uncomfortable. "I don't know if having magic makes me better than them-"

"Of course it does," Tom scoffed. "Don't be daft, Harry. Your relatives can't create fire by snapping their fingers."

"N-neither can I," Harry reminded Tom. "I need a wand and the incantation-"

Tom gave Harry a dismissive wave. "I'll teach you to summon fire latter, after we're back at Hogwarts. And that's not what I mean, Harry. Muggles can't fly-"

"Airplanes," Harry reminded.

"They can't make pictures move-"

"Television."

After his second contradiction, Tom took a deep, calming breath. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. It's taken Muggles thousands of years to develop and understand that technology, while witches and wizards have been able to naturally do these things for as long as Muggles have been trying to create them. And there is still so much that we can do that they can't. We can regrow bones and body parts. We can make ourselves invisible, walk through walls, transform ourselves into animals – they may be able to imitate these results but their imitation isn't real."

Finally, Harry nodded. Tom was right. Muggles were intelligent, yes, but they didn't have the natural resources or abilities that witches and wizards had. They could replicate magic, but only with machines and computers. Muggles would never _really_ fly, and their pictures would never _really_ move.

Harry realized that Muggles and magic may get along sometimes, as with Seamus' parents. Magic may also get along with Muggles, like Ron's dad. But then Muggles would also fear Magic, like his relatives. Because really, if Muggles had to stand up to magic, they wouldn't be able to defend themselves.

**A/N: Okay, I know the above statments are blatently racist, and I am NOT going to defend racism. I mean, come on, its racism. How CAN it be defended? But consider the story, and consider who Harry was raised by and is taking his cues from. He/s still only a kid and although he/s BEGINNING to make decisions on his own, he still really relies on Tom. Still, some people were pretty upset by the last last statement of this chapter. Quite a few people brought up the muggle invention of the atom bomb and argued that muggles could decimate wizards. But consider: most wizard communities are intigrated and hidden smack in the middle of muggles. What muggle would bomb London? And what magical communities DO exist, say Hogwarts and Hogsmead, which are kept seperatly from muggles, are well hidden. If wizards cant find unplottable locations, how will muggles? Plus, even though J.K. didnt make magic REALLY scary in her books (I mean come on, she wrote them for kids), this story has a lot to do with people who are more interested in splitting souls rather than atoms. I figure there was a reason people were so paranoid about witches in the dark ages.**

**Anyways, theres my take on the whole situation. If you/re still following, please review. Oh, and bewear: I do not advocate racism in any way, and theres a reason why there are obvious flaws in the arguments presented in the story. However, racism is a reacuring theme in this story. But keep in mind: racism isn/t what the story is about, even if thats what a lot of the plot revolves around.**


	23. Chapter 23

"Sirius Black," Harry repeated, staring hard at the article. He recognized the surname. After all, the Death Eater's Log, as Tom and Harry had begun to call it, contained a long list of followers derived from the Black family. Sirius wasn't among those names, though. Harry was sure of this, because he'd read the book over a dozen or so times.

"Sirius," Harry repeated again to himself. Saying it a second time still didn't stir any hint of memory, though.

"Check the book again," Tom demanded.

"I have!" Harry told him. "And he's not there!"

That didn't make sense, though, because the article said that Sirius Black was one of the Dark Lord's followers, and as a follower of the Dark Lord, he was serving life in Azkaban.

Harry shook his head, throwing the newspaper back onto the desk and glaring at the Log. Maybe this was what Tom meant when he said he wished he had Voldemort's memories, because the guy couldn't write everything down in this book. If they had Voldemort's memories, they'd know who Sirius Black was and why it was so horrifying that he had escaped from Azkaban.

"If he's escaped," Harry reasoned, "He'll be looking for you, won't he Tom?"

"I suppose. Without knowing about his background or his history as one of Voldemort's followers, it's difficult to guess his motives. But yes, that's a good guess I think."

"Would he be able to find you?" Harry asked.

Tom shrugged, "It's unlikely but possible. The Dark Mark provided a direct link to Voledemort, and while the link was mostly one way, it could be tracked the opposite way with enough magic behind the spell. The nature of the Mark is dark, so the nature of the searching spell would be dark, as well. He's obviously not adverse to dark magic, and he probably has the power required to perform the spell. So yes, he could find Voldemort, and since Voldemort is now a part of me, it's reasonable to assume that his search would lead him to me."

"And if he finds you? Then what?"

"I don't know," Tom sighed. "There are too many unknown variables. He may be mad from Azkaban, at which point he would be completely useless to us. As one of the men who proudly went to prison for me, he may expect a hero's welcome, which I couldn't give him since I know nothing about him or what he did for my cause. Then, he may wish for asylum, which I am in _no_ way able to provide. I exhaust my energy on helping you and hiding from Dumbledore, and I don't have the resources to hide a man from dementors."

Harry glanced at the man's picture again. It had to be an old picture, since he looked young and healthy. Sirius Black was very handsome.

Finally, Tom sighed. "Leave it, Harry. Don't forget, you're meeting the Weasleys this afternoon."

"Right," Harry sighed, closing the Death Eater Log and hiding it under his bed– He knew that all five Weasley children would be wandering around his room once they arrived at the Leakey Caldron, and he knew what their reactions would be if they found the book.

Harry began to straiten his room. He'd let it grow untidy over the summer – he liked the clutter. He liked that he was in a place which felt lived-in. However, he could anticipate Mrs. Weasley's reaction to the clutter, and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of the woman going through his closet and drawers in an attempt to help him straiten his room. He had numerous Dark Arts books floating hidden amongst his possessions.

He finished straitening his things only moments before the family of seven arrived. Their rooms were just down the hall from his, and they paused at his door to tell him hello.

"Right comfy, this is," Fred or George declared as the twins glanced around at the posters on his walls, his sloppily made bed, and the books piled on his desk. "Me thinks we should bunk with you, Harry."

Before Harry could protest, Mrs. Weasley swept Harry into a tight hug. He had met the woman only once before, but she had sent him a pie for Christmas the previous year, and the familiarity in which she greeted Harry secretly delighted him.

"Oh, dear, we were so worried about you! You've kept to the alley, haven't you? You haven't been wandering around-?"

"Molly," Arthur lightly admonished. "I told you, Harry's a good boy. He's a responsible lad." His words contradicted his expression, though. The man looked over Harry with attentive eyes, as if to make sure he wasn't missing a finger or an eye.

"You've been eating – Good," Molly sighed as she pushed Harry away from herself and gave him a good look-over. "You're much healthier than when I last saw you, although you could still do with a few extra pounds. Just like Ron, the boy-"

"Mu~um," Ron whined from the doorway, where he stood waiting for his chance to say hi to Harry.

Arthur chuckled. "Come along, Molly. Let's give the children a moment to see each other again. Harry, we'll see you at dinner."

As Arthur and Molly went to their room at the end of the hall, Ron, Ginny, and Percy came into Harry's.

Percy stayed for only a quick, curt greeting before leaving to get comfortable in his own room, and Ginny managed nothing more than a quiet "Hullo" to Harry before sitting on a stool at his mirror and making herself small. She watched as Ron and the twins made themselves comfortable around the room.

The twins had already stuffed their bags into Harry's closet, and they had added their books to the pile of Harry's on the desk. Ron made himself comfortable on Harry's bed.

"How was Egypt?" Harry asked.

"It was bloody fantastic," (maybe) Fred said with a grin. "Those Egyptians really knew how to put the curse on people, and they preserved the _sickest_ things."

"It was fun to see Bill again, too. He's always a fun bloke to see," (possibly) George added.

"It's strange, though, how intent mum and dad were to see you," Fred continued slyly, eyeing Harry from the corner of his eye as he went to stand at the window.

"Hey, yeah," Ron said, sitting up a little. "They did talk about Harry a lot, didn't they?"

The twin's rolled their eyes at Ron's inability to notice the obvious.

"They've been acting right strange," George told Harry.

"They were just excited to get home," Ron said dismissively as he once again leaned back against Harry's pillows.

* * *

Harry spent the afternoon accompanying the Weasleys with their school shopping. He even accompanied the Quidditch-minded brothers into the Quidditch supplies store, and although Harry had never developed a taste for flying, he still admired the workmanship which went into the brooms.

Hermione made an appearance shortly before dinner, and as she announced her plans to rent a room in the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer, her eyes met Harry's. In that glance, he understood that she was taking some time away from her parents. After dinner, Harry helped her move her bags into the room which the Weasleys _insisted_ she share with their daughter Ginny.

Harry returned to his room, socially exhausted.

"I missed my friends," Harry told Tom as he made himself comfortable next to Harry on the bed.

"I suppose they're all right," Tom answered absently. "But I _do_ wish you'd tell the twins to beat it. They've already found the books you hid in the closet."

Harry groaned, horrified. "Are you _serious_? Even with your notice-me-not spell?"

"I have a feeling those two got a hold of some anti-curse talismans while they were in Egypt, those nosey bastar-"

Hermione let herself into Harry's room just then.

"Hey, Harry," she greeted. "Tom," she added, even though Tom hadn't made his presence apparent to her. She had known the two friends for over a year, and she knew they would take advantage of the opportunity to be together over the holidays, where they didn't have to worry about Dumbledore.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry answered, sitting up. "How is it with your parents?"

"Oh, fine," she sighed. "It's just a little uncomfortable. I've started remembering some… events from his childhood, and they've made me a little uneasy."

"Like what?" Tom asked from the mirror, his voice clear in the room – he had quickly learned to use mirrors and windows to communicate with Hermione, and the image of him sitting next to Harry was clear in the vanity's mirror.

"Mostly fights, my mother crying, that sort of stuff. Except… there was one time… The memory is vague, but it's also a little terrifying… I think my parents once had an an exorcism preformed over me."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "Are you _serious_?"

Hermione nodded, frowning as she looked at her hands. The memory was obviously distressing, but Harry was at a loss of how to comfort her. Even his relatives had never done anything like that to him.

But from the mirror, Tom nodded. "The orphanage where I was raised had some superstitious people in it. _Many_ exorcisms were preformed on me."

Harry's head whipped towards Tom. He had been told many of the injustices Tom was subjected to at the orphanage, but he had never been told about this.

"What?" Harry asked. "You've… Why haven't you told me?"

"It was something horrifying, and humiliating," Tom gently explained. "And when you were younger… Your aunt and uncle already had you terrified of being sent to an orphanage. I didn't want to increase your fear."

Harry glanced to Hermione. The girl had placed a hand over her eyes, but she wasn't crying. Still, Harry stood to hug her.

"Have you talked to your parents about it?" he asked as she moved to return the hug.

She shook her head against his shoulder. "I can hardly stand to _think_ about it. This is the first time I've said the words out loud, and…" She sighed as her voice trailed off.

Of course, that moment _had_ to be when the twins barged into the room.

The two immediately paused, their eyes widening as Hermione quickly pulled away from Harry, wiping at the tears which had begun to fall from her eyes as they were hugging.

"Hey now," Fred said quietly. "What's this?"

Hermione had turned her back to the two older boys, and she was working hard to regain her composure. Harry was left to explain, and he could only stand with his mouth open as he glanced from Hermione to the twins.

"Hermione's having some problems at home," Harry finally said quietly.

George closed the bedroom door, and the twins came fully into the room. "What's the matter? Are you okay, Hermione? No one's hurt you, have they?"

Harry was surprised by Fred and George's obvious concern. The two got along with Hermione okay, but he'd always had the feeling the older boys really only tolerated her for Harry's sake. The two usually went out of their way to irritate or tease the girl.

"It's not like that," Harry explained, unsure of what to reveal about Hermione's situation. "It's about when she was younger…"

"Before you're parents knew what magic was?" Fred guessed.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked, looking up, but still not turning around.

"There's a boy in our dorm who was Muggle born, and he had it pretty rough. His older siblings were cruel, and he has nightmares sometimes," George gently explained. "His family's a little insane, though. They became scared of him, and they were really irrational about it. We thought it was only him…"

"Jeez, Hermione. That's rough," Fred sighed sympathetically. "You know you're welcome to the burrow if you need a place to… I don't know… cool off for a while."

"Yeah," George finished. "Mum and dad would be glad to have you."

"Thanks," Hermione gently sighed, her shoulders straitening a little.

Soon after, Hermione joined Ginny in the girl's room, and when Harry peaked in on the two, he found Ginny sitting on her bed and listening intently to Hermione as the older girl spoke of her excitement for the upcoming semester.

"I'm going to talk to her when she goes to brush her teeth for bed," Tom told Harry. "I never thought I'd have anything in common with the girl…"

Harry nodded, then started back to his room. He paused when he heard raised voices from downstairs and recognized them as Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Blushing and intently trying not to overhear the arguing of his friend's parents, he kept his eyes down as he reached for his door handle.

Then, he heard his name, and he froze, his eyes flying to the stairs. He stood perfectly still, his hand still reaching forward and his eyes studying the flickering shadows near the turn in the stairs.

He started when his bedroom door opened in front of him, and the twins peered at him in the hall.

"Mum and dad are fighting about you again," George told him.

"Would you like to know why?" Fred asked.

Harry glanced down the hall again, then nodded at the two boys. He followed them into his room.

"We've got this idea," George began.

"Because you see, mum and dad only started worrying about you a few weeks ago," Fred continued.

"Right after the reports started about someone escaping from Azkaban."

"And it's strange, because mum has started saving all the newspaper articles about Sirius Black," Fred finally finished.

"Sirius Black?" Harry asked.

The twins nodded.


	24. Chapter 24

Third year began with a bang, quite literally. The train came to a hard stop just outside of the magical lands where Hogwarts was located. Neville's trunk wasn't secured in its storage place above their seats, and it crashed to their compartment's floor, effectively waking the man sleeping on the far end of the seats and sending Harry and his friends into chaos.

Neville stuttered as his school supplies spilled out on the compartment floor, some of his class materials clearly ruined. Fred and George were having a blast, pawing through Neville's things and loudly displaying Nevill's personal items even as they helped pack everything back into the trunk. Ron was cursing as he made sure everyone else's things were in proper order, and Hermione was apologizing to R. Lupin for causing such a fuss and waking him.

Harry stood still, at first watching Tom. Then he turned his eyes to the compartment's window to see why Tom's eyes were hard and his back rim-rod strait.

Harry watched the shadows he could see outside, and he asked Tom, "Who are they?"

"I'm not sure," Tom answered, his voice tight. "But they aren't human."

"Who?"

The voice was unfamiliar. Harry and his friends turned to look at R. Lupin, who had interrupted Hermione's apology to ask Harry his question.

"There's someone outside the train," Harry said, motioning towards the fogged windows.

R. Lupin stood, his fatigue apparent in his slumped posture and the circles under his eyes. However, he moved around the compartment with intent, easily sidestepping the mess on the floor as he made his way to door. He slid the compartment door open and faced into the hall. "They wouldn't," he breathed as chilly air seeped into the train. "Not where there are children-"

"There's something… not right," Tom said, his voice as breathless as R. Lupin's. Tom's expression didn't belie the same terror as Lupin's though. Tom had his palm pressed against the window, and his eyes were wide. "They're…" Tom stilled, the tension returning to his posture. "Get back, Harry. Everyone get back."

Harry easily pushed himself further into the compartment, forcing his friends there, as well, as something approached Lupin in the hallway.

Harry felt the weight of Tom's magic against his shoulders and chest as Tom wrapped Harry in a spell. Tom's form flickered as he slid though the door and stood against the dark, cold creature which was making its way towards their compartment. The thing's breath rattled as it breathed Tom's presence and it paused, dark cloth swishing around its body.

Tom spoke to the thing in low tones, his eyes narrowed and his teeth bared in a grimace. When he was done, the thing took a second breath of him, then it turned to leave.

The magic fell away from Harry and returned to Tom in a whoosh, leaving Harry to feel the chill which had seeped into the compartment.

A few moments latter, the train began to move, and the dark mist and cold began to drain from their car.

"What was that?" Hermione breathed.

"Dementors," the man, Lupin, stated. His voice rasped, and he was clearly shaken.

"From Azkaban?" one of the twins asked, straitening.

"Azkaban?" Hermione repeated. "Those things are from the prison?"

"They're the guards there," the other twin explained.

"They're looking for Sirius Black," Harry guessed.

"They think Sirius Black is on the train?" Ron cried.

"Enough," Lupin declared. "He isn't here. They weren't supposed to be here, either."

"It's so cold," Hermione breathed as she tried to control her chattering teeth.

"That's the effect they have on people," Lupin explained as he moved to grab his luggage. The contents of Neville's trunk were still scattered around the compartment and in Lupin's way, and he easily magiced everything strait. Taking his suitcase, he took several bars of chocolate from within and began passing them around the compartment.

"What's this?" Hermione asked as she accepted a piece.

"Chocolate is the best remedy for the effects of dementors," Lupin explained.

"Wicked," Ron breathed before biting into his share. Familiar with Harry's aversion to sweets, Ron turned to him when he was finished with his own chocolate. Harry, less affected than the others because of Tom's magic, dropped the chocolate into Ron's hands

"If you'll excuse me," Lupin said as he eyed the exchange between Harry and Ron, "I need to have a discussion with the conductor."

The man left some chocolate in his vacated seat and started towards the front of the train.

The twins snickered as the man left the compartment. "I bet he's going to yell at the conductor for stopping."

"He doesn't seem the type to yell," Hermione said absently.

Tom nodded. "He doesn't look healthy enough to yell," he said quietly.

Harry turned to Tom, studying him intently. Tom seemed drawn and solemn. Harry noticed that his form was a little less defined and Tom's eyes had a tinge of red to them. When Tom noticed Harry's gaze, his expression eased and he gave Harry a small grin. "I'm fine, Harry. Keep your eyes turned forward."

At the reminder that he was staring a little too intently at an empty seat, Harry jerked his head around to look at the other people in the compartment. Luckily, the Weasley siblings were squabbling over the last of the chocolate and Neville was trying to secure his trunk in the overhead bins. Only Hermione had noticed Harry's staring, and she pinned him with a questioning gaze.

In reply, Harry gave her the same comforting smile which Tom had just given him. Her shoulders relaxed, and she moved to help Neville with his trunk.

Once order had been restored to the compartment and everyone had returned to their seats, Hermione asked, "Why are there guards from Azkaban on a train heading to Hogwarts?"

"Probably for the same reason that our mum and dad have been fussing over Harry ever since the news of Black's escape," Fred stated.

"_What?_" Hermione breathed. She turned narrowed eyes to Harry. "What _exactly_ have you been keeping from me?" she asked.

"I haven't been _keeping_ it from you!" Harry cried. "I just haven't had the chance to talk with you about it yet!"

"Well talk _now_," Hermione demanded. "What does Sirius Black have to do with _you_?"

"We don't know!" Harry cried. "I didn't know there was any connection at all until the twins told me their parents were worried!"

It was Neville who breathed, "Oh, _Harry_."

All eyes turned to Neville, who was staring at Harry in horror.

"Neville?" Harry asked.

"I thought you knew," he told Harry. "I mean, it's not a secret. It comes up all the time-"

Harry immediately knew that Neville was referencing the old blood party functions he sometimes attended with his grandmother.

"Neville?" Harry asked again.

"Sirius Black was a friend of your father's. No one talks about what exactly he did to get into Azkaban, but people are _still_ talking about how shocking it was to find out he was a Death Eater."

There was silence in the compartment following Neville's announcement. For a moment, the chill was worse than a dementor.

"No way," Ron finally said.

Neville shook his head. "_Everyone_ knows," he told them.

Harry released a long breath and leaned back in his seat. "Strange," he finally said, "that I sometimes forget that I ever had parents."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered. She set her hand on his shoulder. In the empty seat beside Harry, Tom released a sigh of his own.

Ron offered Harry his last piece of chocolate.

**Annoying Note: Whoo-ee! It/s been a while, hasnt it? Alas, it/s taken a while for me to edit this story! There are still probably some errors in here (in fact, I/m sure there are), but you can/t complain until _you_ try to change 71 pages of 1st person perspective into 3rd person. And the plot holes, the transitions! I/ve realized that I/m about as subtle as a sledge hammer! How were you guys able to _read_ this stuff? Oh! Oh! and even worse: maybe you guys haven/t noticed, but the apostraphe/quotations key on my laptop NO LONGER WORKS! Do you have any idea how many times I/ve had to copy and paste? I/ll tell you: for 71 PAGES of rewrites! *takes deep breath and remembers it/s all over.***

**Gha.**

**Anyways, thanks for sticking with the story, everyone! While revising, I realized that many of the events in my story follow the events in the book too closely. Be prepaired for a randome and crazy third year at Hogwarts (although, it won/t be TOO randome. I/ve got a plot to stick with here, people!)! Again, thanks for all the support you/ve given me and the encouragment to continue the story. Remember to review!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: A new chapter! Hazzah! Enjoy!**

Dumbledore was efficient in distracting the students during the Welcoming Feast. Before the sorting began, chocolate was served throughout the hall, as many students were still shaken by their encounter with the Dementors. During the Sorting, Harry considered the impression the event had left on the first years, and he wondered how the first letters they sent home would read.

However, by the end of the feast, the event was all but forgotten. The hall was noisy as students compared summers and speculated on the upcoming school year, and there was an air of excitement as they left for their dorms.

Harry was excited, too. He really felt like he was returning home. It was strange how Harry was happier at Hogwarts than he was when staying at the Leaky Cauldron. At Hogwarts, he slept in a room with four other people, he had to wear a uniform almost every day, and it seemed like there was always a reason for Harry to look over his back. However, during the summers, Harry had a room all to himself, no one asked after his whereabouts, he could go to sleep and wake up whenever he liked, and of course, there was Tom. Harry and Tom couldn`t spend much time together at Hogwarts, but they were hardly apart during the summer.

However, once they arrived at Hogwarts, Tom had to find someplace quiet and still to hide, someplace where people were less likely to find him. Therefore, Tom wasn`t able to join Harry in Gryffindor tower that evening, and Harry was left alone to contemplate his situation. He sat by the fire, enjoying the heat of the flames while his housemates enjoyed each other`s company. Harry had caught up with most of his mates during the feast, and no one bothered him while he became comfortable in one of the common room`s overstuffed armchairs. The gentle hum of conversation filled the room, and Harry was lulled into a slight daze while he thought of Sirius Black.

Harry considered the facts.

First, the man was once a friend of Harry`s father.

Second, the man was a convicted follower of Voldemort and had spent nearly 12 years in prison.

Third, the exact details of his crime were unclear.

Forth, the man was lucid enough and powerful enough to escape an inescapable fortress.

And finally, there was a major concern that the man was headed for Hogwarts. At least, Harry assumed it was a major concern. It was major enough that the Ministry risked exposing children to the effects of Dementors.

Harry decided that if Black was headed for Hogwarts, he was headed for Harry. However, there was no way to tell the man's intentions or goals. Harry wondered if he was in danger of an attack. Twelve years seemed an awfully long time to wait for revenge, though. If Black had the ability to escape Azkaban, why would he wait to do it until Harry was a maturing wizard living in one of the most secure magical locations in the world? Why not attack when Harry was younger, when he walked by himself to primary school through a somewhat isolated park? And there had to be some reason to Black`s escape. He couldn`t be mad or crazy. Not if he was able to escape Azkaban's security.

And above all else, the man was loyal to Voldemort. He was loyal to Tom. That had to count for something. They couldn`t just disregard that fact.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, startling him from thought. Harry realized that it was late, and everyone had gone to bed. He and Hermione were the only ones left in the common room. "Harry, what is it?"

"Sirius Black must be at Hogwarts," Harry said slowly, becoming more sure of the suspicion as he spoke it out loud. And even if Harry was wrong, all hints pointed towards Black making an appearance in the school at some point.

Hermione tensed at his statement. "You really think so?" Her eyes darted around the common room as if expecting to catch the man lurking behind one of the chairs.

"We need to talk to Tom. We need some sort of idea of how to deal with Black-"

"Sirius Black will have to wait," Tom declared, wavering into existence next to Harry. His reflection appeared in a mirror by the fireplace, his expression grim and his hands tightened into fists.

"Tom!" Harry cried, sitting strait and alert in his chair. "What are you doing here? Dumbledore-"

"It`s not Dumbledore we have to worry about anymore," Tom interrupted. "I`ve been found. Some Slytherins caught me playing with my energy and appearance."

Harry`s mouth hung open in horror, and Hermione whimpered, "Oh, Merlin."

* * *

Their first class on the first day was Transfiguration. Harry was anxious, tapping the end of his quill on his notes and causing a large ink blot to spread across the page. The notes were a mess, anyway, since he couldn`t concentrate, and he would have to borrow Hermione's notes latter. That is, if she were any less distracted than he was.

The previous evening, Harry, Hermione and Tom had spent an hour debating their situation.

"The kid is two or three years older than you, Harry," Tom told them. "He was too interested in me to get much information about him. His name was Altair. Altair Le Something-or-Other."

"Sounds like he comes from an old family," Hermione murmured.

Tom nodded. "He was a dweeb," he told them. "Really awkward, he seemed lonely."

Harry`s eyebrow rose at this. He and Tom shared a look.

Hermione, however, asked, "What made you think he was lonely?"

"He was wandering around the dungeons by himself on the first evening back at school after summer vacation. He certainly wasn`t waiting to meet with anyone. And he was a little too excited to find a new ghost friend."

"Well what happened? What did you tell him?" Harry asked.

"I lied, of course. Told him I was a wandering spirit drawn to the castle`s magic. He mostly only wanted to know what it was like to be dead, how long I`d been a ghost, stupid stuff like that. Then, he promised to find me again tomorrow after classes."

"You told him you`d see him again?" Harry asked.

Tom had responded with a resolute nod.

And so, Tom had gone back to the dungeons and Harry was left to Gryffindor Tower and Hermione.

Harry was also left to his worries and wild immagination. He spent classes that morning fidgeting at his desk, considering the consequences of a student interacting with Tom completly independent of Harry.

Harry didn`t like it. Not at all. Hermione knowing Tom was one thing, but this - Harry didn`t like whatever this was. He knew it would turn into something, and he could tell it would only be the beginning, the beginning of some sort of change.

Altair. Altair Le Something-or-Other. Altair Le Something-or-Other of an old family, and of Slytherin.

Harry knew that Tom easily grew bored of Gryffindor. He probably grew lonely, as well, with only two people to talk to in the entire world. Two children. That`s right, Tom had mentioned that this Altair fellow was a couple years older than Harry and Hermione, hadn`t he? He was closer in age to Tom. He was the perfect candidate for a new friend.

Except, he was too dangerous to be a friend. If he said anything to anyone, if he revealed Tom to anyone else, or if Tom`s hiding place was discovered by one of the teachers, then everything would be over. Dumbledore would hunt him down for sure, or the teachers would find a way to expel his spirit from the school.

As far as Harry was concerned, Altair Le Something-or-Other stood as the most dangerous person in the school.

* * *

Harry and Hermione ate a quick lunch. Then, they hurried to the library. There, they found the previous year`s records and looked through the Slytherin pages for anyone named Altair.

And there, amongst the Forth Years was Altair Le Feuvre.

"He`ll be a Fifth Year, then," Hermione mumbled.

"Tom`s right. He looks like a dweeb," Harry answered, inspecting the boy`s picture. He was tall and skinny, gangly looking, with wide, light eyes and a thin mouth. His auburn hair was short along the sides and back but was longer at the top, the length made awkward by how wavy his hair became when grown out. He looked like the kind of guy whose tie was always crooked and whose shirt was always too big for his skinny frame.

"I`ve seen him at Quidditch games," Hermione told Harry. "He usually sits with the younger students. He stands out because he`s a head taller than the students around him. I don`t think Tom was right when he said Altair was lonely. He has a lot of friends. They`re all just younger than he is."

"You don`t think he`s friends with Malfoy, do you?" Harry asked, making a face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of _all_ the things Harry could be worried about. "I don`t think Altair`s family is old enough to be hanging around that crowd. It wouldn`t surprise me if he knew Zabini or Greengrass, though. They aren`t as strict as Malfoy about the company they keep."

"Do you think he`ll look for Tom today?" Harry asked.

Hermione frowned. "I don`t know. It`s the first day of classes, and everyone`ll be given a lot of homework. I don`t know if he`d have the time to hang around with a ghost."

Now, Harry rolled his eyes. That was Hermione logic, and the only people logic like that could be applied to were Ravenclaws. This meant that yes, Altair Le Feuvre would probably look for Tom that evening. If nothing else, the guy had to be curious about Tom.

"Besides," Hermione continued, "He thinks Tom`s a ghost. Ghosts are hardly uncommon around here. And everyone knows that with the exception of Professor Binns and maybe Moaning Myrtle-"

_Who?_ Harry thought.

"-none of the other ghosts actually died in Hogwarts. They had to have come from other area of the country after they died. Why couldn`t a new ghost do the same thing?"

Hermione was being perfectly reasonable. However, this was once again Hermione logic. Her conclusion was perfectly reasonable, but Harry wouldn`t have simply made the assumption that a new ghost could have come from somewhere other than Hogwarts. If he saw a new ghost, he would have immediately thought, _Oh, someone must have died in this hallway the other day._ Well, maybe he wouldn`t think _exactly_ that, but he would have made the assumption until someone told him differently. And sure, there were plenty of students in the school who used Hermione logic on any given day, but there were also plenty who didn`t.

"Hermione," Harry said slowly, "What do we do if he tells someone about Tom?"

Hermione paused. With a frown, she answered, "Harry, there`s nothing we could do."

**A/N: So months and months ago, I began re-writing for this story, and I had a ton of pages written. Then, my computer died. Currently, it/s on life support. As you will notice, my keyboard is still messed up. Only now, along with a messed up keyboard, my computer isn/t capable of running any programs more complicated than WordPad. I/m not completly sure how I have internet at all. Anyways, I came onto the site the other day for the first time in FOREVER! And I just have to say, thanks for the reviews! You guys are my inspiration! No, seriously. I hadn/t written anything in MONTHS (except by hand, but even those little bursts of inspiration were few and far between) because typing in WordPad is hell, but I saw your reviews and thought screw it. Where there/s a will, there/s a way! Editing is still a pain in the butt, but so what? Anything is possible!**

**Did you guys know there are some neat-o spell check programs you can copy and paste whole chunks of story into on the internet? *awesome discrovery of the week* **

**Anyways, sorry for how short the chapter is! I wanted to get something out to you guys sooner rather than latter, though. I/ve decided that I/m going to try updating more regularly, which means posts won/t be as long as they have been in the past. But hey, it also means I/ll be updating more often than once a year! Maybe this story will actually be finished sometime in the next decade! Whoot!**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I present to you, six pages fresh out of the oven. Enjoy!**

That evening, Harry had to force himself to do homework. He copied Hermione`s notes and started an essay for Charms. He didn't make it past the introductory paragraph, however.

"If you're only going to sit there and fidget, don't bother, Hermione said when Harry's mood finally became too distracting to her. "Why don't you play chess with Ron or find the twins? I bet they'll be able to take your mind off of things."

Harry found the twins in the library, but they didn't distract him at all. Instead, they only reminded him that Altair Le Feuvre wasn't his only worry.

First, they brought up Sirius Black.

"We heard McGonagal talking about him with Flitwick. She said he'd gotten past the Dementors once before, and there was no reason he couldn't do it again. She seems to think he's capable of doing just about anything. Nothing we didn't already know."

"Right," Harry sighed.

"Do you think Hermione would have an idea how he did it?" one of the twins asked. Harry wondered why he seemed excited.

"No," Harry said. "We really don't know much about Azkaban. The Ministry doesn't exactly publicize anything about the place."

"No,- one of the twins agreed. "But the important thing is the Dementors. It's bloody difficult to sneak around the grounds with those buggers crawling all over the place. We cant practice making many of our... concoctions without sneaking into the forest for ingredients."

"Concoctions?" Harry asked uneasily.

"Sure," the other twin answered. "Nothing big, mind you. Just little prank mixtures. Nothing goes unnoticed by Professor Sprout, though, so we cant take anything from the greenhouses. And Snape already has it in for us. We cant get within a meter of his stores. We've found a couple nifty little sprouts growing by Neville`s bed, though. You think he could show us how to grow a few things in our dorms?"

The other twin shook his head. "McGonagal would notice if we were growing ingredients in our dorm."

George sighed. "If only we knew how to get past the Dementors..."

Harry frowned. "Maybe you could ask Black for his secrets when he sneaks into the school."

Harry meant it to be a joke, but his displeasure at the subject made the comment sound sarcastic.

The twins` expressions immediately became solemn.

"That's it, then?" George asked. "You really think he'll make it into the school?"

"I'm sure he'll try," Harry grumbled.

"And no one knows what he wants?" Fred asked. "Hasn't McGonagal told you anything yet?"

Harry shook his head. "No one's said anything to me about him. Not directly, anyways."

"Maybe Dumbledore would tell you something if you asked,-" Fred suggested. "He _has_ to know something!"

The idea of involving Dumbledore set Harry on edge. That man was the last person Harry wanted knowing his business. But the idea was sound. If anyone knew anything about Sirius Black`s intentions towards Harry, it would be Dumbledore. Briefly, Harry wondered what Tom would think about the idea.

The twins continued in that vein for a while.

"I'm surprised you haven't gone to him before now, Harry," Fred stated. "If we were in your position, we would have been pounding at his door demanding answers ages ago."

"Answers for what?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I don't know," George began. "I'd want an explanation for my living conditions."

"Honestly," Fred continued, "What kind of relatives would allow a 12-year-old to live above a pub for over two months?"

"Hey," Harry argued, "I'm 13!"

"Not at the end of June you weren't," Fred told him. "Oh, and you were only 11 the June before that, weren't you?"

"And then there was your first year here, where you didn't seem to _really_ be here at all," George said with a wise nod. "You know, that long period of time when you were clearly upset about something and no teachers seemed to offer you any help at all? Our mum and dad would have thrown a fit if something like that had happened to us."

"Not to mention all the strange things that happen around you," Fred said. "Sometimes it's as if your magic was still wild, or maybe you're experiencing bouts of accidental magic. That's worrisome in a third year, Harry."

Harry began to fidget as he realized what the twins were working their way towards. He honestly hadn't thought anyone would notice Tom's magic, especially since he was hardly ever around during second year. But the twins had lived next to Harry in the Leaky Cauldron for a while, hadn't they? Maybe they had noticed something, seen something they weren't supposed to.

"And honestly, Harry, it's kind of strange that you haven'tapproached any adults about this Sirius Black situation," George wisely observed. "A killer escaped from Azkaban and all signs point towards him being interested in you, and you don't even go to our parents or Professor McGonagal? It's almost as if there aren't any adults you trust!"

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Fred beat him to the punch.

"Or maybe _there are_," he said slyly. Suddenly, the twins were very close, leaning over the table towards Harry and whispering conspiratorially.

"W-what?" Harry stuttered.

"Maybe you _do_ have an adult you trust. One that's always around?"

Harry tried again. "What are you guys talking about?"

And suddenly, the twins stopped playing.

"We're talking about the bloke that lives in your mirror," George stated.

"The one that sneaks into Knocturn Alley and buys you books on the Dark Arts," Fred added.

"The guy that has an opinion on just about anything-"

"be it the Ministry of Magic or Muggle law."

"Who tells you how to do things-"

"and who to talk to-"

"and what spells to study-"

"and how to act-"

"Enough!" Harry cried, his voice far too loud. He flinched as the word echoed through the library. Madame Pince would be on them in a moment.

Before she could reach their table or even the row of books they hid behind, the twins stood, took either of Harry's arms, and led him from the library. They marched him clear across the corridor and into a disused classroom.

As one, they said, "So _spill_."

* * *

"-and so now he's just... biding his time," Harry finished, slumping against the dusty desk he sat at. His explanation had been a long one. He and the twins had long ago grown tired of standing and had taken chairs. Fred and George were in the row of desks in front of Harry, sitting backwards on their chairs and leaning over the back rests.

And they were both scowling. Hermione hadn't responded like this when she learned about Tom, and Harry wasn't sure what to think about the twins expressions.

"Harry, where did this guy come from?" George asked slowly.

Harry blinked. He thought he'd explained this at the beginning of his tale, when he told them about the journal.

"I told you, his spirit was trapped in a journal," Harry began.

But George shook his head. "Souls don't just get trapped inside of books," George said. "That's big magic. Really big, really dangerous magic. And wizards don't go around putting other wizards into books, either. Something like that could kill a person. It could kill two people!"

Fred hummed in agreement. "And you _know_ this guy is into Dark Magic. He's encouraging _you_ to learn it!"

"He's not encouraging me to learn it! Just... to learn _about_ it. And sure, Tom can be a little mean spirited when he's angry, but he doesn't tell me to go around cursing people whenever it suits me!"

Fred and George were still shaking their heads. "This doesn't seem right. How old were you when you found that thing? Five? Six? How does a child get a hold of powerful, dark magic like that? What are the chances of _you_ getting a hold of something like that?"

Now, Fred nodded. "What if this is a trick? What if a Dark Wizard is trying to take advantage of you?"

"What if this was set up by _You-Know-Who_," George hissed.

At once, the twins stood up. "We have to get Dumbledore," George declared.

"We have to warn him-"

"_No!_" Harry cried, jumping up to block their path to the door. "You canttell Dumbledore!"

"Harry, are you mad? You-Know-Who may have found a way to manipulate you! You may be walking right into a trap!"

"I'm not!" Harry insisted. "And you cant tell Dumbledore!"

The twins were unswayed. They easily shoved around Harry, intent on finding Dumbledore and telling him everything. _Everything._

"_Alright!_- Harry cried, his call jarring enough to halt the twins. "Alright! I'll tell you everything!"

"Merlin," George gasped, "There's _more?_"

"Yes! And I'll tell you if you agree not to tell Dumbledore!"

"We _have_ to tell Dumbledore-" Fred argued.

"Oh, come on!" Harry whined. "You said it yourselves! I don't trust Dumbledore! Don't you even wonder why?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, hesitantly, George said, "Alright. Why?"

Harry had to gather his strength. "You promise not to tell?"

"As long as you promise to tell _us_," George agreed.

"_Everything._" Fred finished.

Harry had to open and close his mouth a couple of times before the words would come out. "Alright, then... I'll tell you..." He was stalling. "Tom _is_ Voldemort."

The twins` faces grew very red, and before they could have heart attacks or fall into seizures, Harry hurried on. "Okay, that's a gross exaggeration! _Believe me_ when I say Voldemort is _gone_! He has been for over a year! Except, he isn't really gone. Except he totally is!"

"Harry~" George said slowly.

"Okay, okay, okay," Harry began again. "Let me explain! You were right, okay? Tom being inside that journal is kind of a big deal. A really really big deal. He did it though, because he wanted to be sure to never die. I mean, he had really big goals, really big plans, and to see them through, he had to be sure to _live_ to make them happen! So he... he _split_ his soul in half. Tom is half of his soul. Except, he didn't only do it once. He did it a _couple _of times. Okay, maybe a _few_ times. Lord Voldemort was the result of a few too many splits. He was, what, 1/64th of a soul or something? Even Tom, _another part of Voldemort_, agreed the guy was a madman and useless as a human being! So, you know, when I told you Tom helped me get away from Voldemort at the end of first year? Tom actually _reabsorbed_ Voldemort's soul. And Voldemort was so small, such a small part of Tom, that not a smidgen of his personality or memories remain!"

There was a beat of silence. Then, George said, "You expect us to believe that, Harry? Voldemort's _gone_, just like that? Just because a different part of himself says he is?"

-"Do you honestly think I'd still be alive if he wasn't gone?" Harry asked. "You guys, Tom and I have a connection. I... I mentioned it earlier. It's how Tom got out of the journal in the first place. It's how he keeps even so much as a ghost-like form most of the time. Tom feeds off of my magic. It happened, once, the first time I tried giving him magic when I was a kid - Tom took _too much_ energy. He took so much of my magic, he had a solid form capable of preforming magic. He could have just sucked the rest of my magic away and let me die. But he didn't He gave the magic back to me and was content to live without a solid form and without magic for _years_. And after reabsorbing Voldemort, it has become easy for Tom to take magic. Not just from me, but from other things, as well. Although, it's still easiest for him to borrow off of my energy. So you see, if he wanted to kill me, he could do it at any time, in any second."

Now, Harry waited for their reactions. Something he said seemed to make them pause. George had an uneasy frown on his face, and Harry could tell he regretted what he was about to say.

"You said earlier... That he was biding his time... He's biding his time for what?" George asked.

Harry's shoulders relaxed a little. After all, the twins were _listening_.

"He's biding his time until I'm finished with school and have an education. Then, we're going to reform Wizarding society together.-

Fred's eyes narrowed. "Reform, how?" he asked.

Harry blinked. "You know... He always said he'd explain when I was older and could understand. And I guess I'm older now, but... We've been so preoccupied with other things, we haven't had much time to talk about it in a while."

"War?" Fred immediately guessed.

Harry shook his head and waved his hands, preparing to vehemently tell them otherwise. However, after a moment, he stopped. "Wait... Tom said... He said it might come to that, but only as a last resort. He said a _lot_ of things had to go wrong before we should have to resort to war..."

Harry didn't like the idea of war.

However, it appeared that the twins disliked the idea even more. George was turning in a pivot on his heel, and Fred's face was red from fury.

Harry realized that maybe he hadn't properly explained himself or Tom, and he had given the twins the wrong idea.

"Wait!" he cried. "It's not like that! Tom's not like Voldemort!"

"You just said it yourself, Harry!" George cried, turning back into the room to yell. "You said he'd go to war!"

"Only as a last resort!" Harry argued. "And I mean _last resort!_ Tom isn'tlike Voldemort! I mean it!"

"How so?- George snarled.

"He likes Hermione!" Harry blurted. He was surprised by the twins` surprise. He was surprised by how suddenly their surprise calmed them and made them still.

"He likes _Hermione?_" Fred repeated.

"Yes! They've been talking for _ages_ now! They geek out over homework and books and stuff all the time. They've got stuff in common, and Tom likes Hermione enough and knows her well enough to know what that stuff is! And I mean... he can be stuffy and a little... _old fashioned_ sometimes, but he likes Hermione. He's even admitted it a couple of times. Or at least, he's admitted that she's not bad. And he likes you two, as well. And he's threatened to beat up Draco Malfoy for me before!"

"Then why cant we tell Dumbledore?" George asked.

At this, Harry frowned and his eyes furrowed. "We cant tell him because I don't trust him. All that stuff you were talking about earlier was true - about how my relatives don't take proper care of me and how I'm left to myself too often. And Dumbledore _does_ know about me. Tom thinks Dumbledore knows why Voldemort wanted to kill me. And Tom says..."

George's lips were thin as he asked, "What does Tom say?"

"Tom says Dumbledore is an extremist Like, Voldemort was an extremist concerning the Dark Arts, but Dumbledore is opposite. Either way, he says there's no room for any way except for Dumbledore's way, and Dumbledore will exercise his power accordingly to keep things the way he wants them. Tom says that it's not right."

After a few moments, Fred murmured, "Tom sounds... Interesting."

Hope flared in Harry's chest. "Will you talk to him? You're closer to his age, so I'm sure you'll understand what he says better than I do! And I really think you'll like him! His pranks are even better than yours!"

George seemed unsure. "Talk to him?"

"Yeah. I mean, you already figured out that he can appear in mirrors and stuff. And he's coming by the common room tonight. He'll want to meet you. Even though he knows you already."

Harry wished he quit talking after explaining Tom's mirror trick. It occurred to him that it wasn't the best of ideas to remind them that even if they couldn't see Tom, he could see them.

"Alright," George said grudgingly. "We'll meet him. But if he's nothing but a Slimy Slytherin, we'll have Dumbledore on him before you can say You-Know-Who."

Harry had the impression that Fred and George planned to tell either way and had only agreed to meet with Tom out of sheer curiosity. Harry hoped that Tom could make them change their minds.

* * *

When Harry finally wandered back into the common room that evening, he only had to give Hermione a _look_ before she promptly packed away her school books and essays and followed Harry to a private table in the common room.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked.

"It's Fred and George," he told her. "They know about Tom."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose it was bound to happen, since they were practically living in your room this summer. What did they say?"

Now, Harry fidgeted. He felt horrible, because the twins now knew more about Tom than even Hermione did, and Hermione was actually Tom's friend. But he had kept certain _key issues_ about Tom and his true identity a secret from Hermione for good reason.

"They don't like him," Harry told her.

"What?" Hermione cried, and she earned a few glances from the students around them. "Why not? Tom's great!"

"Yeah, but... maybe not completely great," Harry said slowly.

Harry had been adamant in making the twins promise not to tell Hermione about Tom also being Voldemort, but the true extent of his beliefs couldn't be kept secret from Hermione any longer.

"The twins also found out about Tom's... interest in Dark Magic," Harry finally explained.

"His _what_?" Hermione hissed.

"I know, I know," Harry began. "But... Tom grew up in a different time than us, and he grew up in a different house. It wasn't the same, and it isn't fair to hold that against him when the use of Dark Magic has changed so much since he was in school."

"I guess... He _doesn't _go around cursing people or anything."

Harry nodded his agreement.

The two sat up late, discussing Tom, the twins, and Dark Magic. Hermione was still very uncomfortable with the idea that Tom studied Dark Magic, but Harry had her convinced that she should listen to Tom's speech about the practice of Dark Magic before coming to any conclusions about Tom.

Before they knew it, it was midnight, and the common room was empty.

"The twins will be here to meet Tom in ten minutes," Harry murmured to himself. "I hope Tom gets here before then. He'll leave as soon as he finds there are people here other than the two of us."

No sooner had Harry vocalized his worries than did Tom appear.

He fell into the chair beside Harry with a heavy sigh. "Altair is _boring,_" he stated. "Just another run of the mill Slytherin. He wants power, money, high standing in society," Tom ticked Altair's aspirations off on his fingers, sounding put out, "but he doesn't have any concrete goals. He spent most of the evening doing his Potions homework and badgering me about how I died and what the school was like when I was a student."

Harry wondered how he could have so easily forgotten about the Slytherin which had discovered Tom. Then, Harry decided he didn't care about the Slytherin Fifth Year at all. Not when the guy only thought that Tom was a ghost. Not when Fred and George knew the _truth_.

"Tom," Harry said slowly. "Fred and George know about you. They know _everything~_," Harry said, careful to stress the last word.

It took a moment for surprise to register in Tom's expression. "_Everything_?" he repeated, his tone a little dangerous. "They know about my connection to Voldemort?"

Harry was suddenly thankful that Tom had only appeared to him and hadn't sent his projection into any mirrors for Hermione. Harry nodded.

"I convinced them to meet with you," _instead of going strait to Dumbledore_, Harry hoped Tom understood.

It seemed he did, because he nodded. "Good. I've always wanted to talk with the Weasley twins."

**A/N: Whoot! I found a word program that actually works on my computer! I still can/t do find and replace, so all of the apostraphies and quotation marks are copied and pasted, but I have spell check again! And I can do all of the particular formating junk to my stories that doesn/t seem like it would be important but I find myself unaple to properly focus and write without! Hazzah! And as usual, I don/t spell check my annoying notes, because then it would feel like I/m trying too hard. **

**Ah, don/t you just love all the little idiosyncrasies (yeah, I had to google that word to be sure I was spelling it right) that come with being a writer? I just read a book where a creative writing professor at a university burried his stories whenever he gave up on them, then had to dig them up out of his yard when he decided he wanted to work on them again. At least I/m not that bad. ****Also, I recently watched the movie -Misery-, where the writer guy tells Kathey Bates she needs to go back to the store and buy new paper because she bought the kind that smudged in the typewriter, and she looses her temper and drops 3 reams of paper on top of his broken legs because he isn/t appriciative of the things she does for him. I/d hate to see how Kathey Bates would react to _my_ writing requirement. Spiral notebook, college ruled, no preferated edges and blue ink, no ball point or glittery gel pens!**

**Gah, sorry about the rant. Anyways, hope you liked the drama this chap! Next chapter, the twins meet Tom, and Tom has a few things to answer for. **

**Review!**


	27. Chapter 27

The twins were cautious as they approached Tom's reflection in the common room's mirror.

"Father said you'd have red eyes," George stated.

"I'm not Voldemort," Tom answered shortly, a scowl already stretching across his lips.

"How can we be sure?" George asked, his eyes narrowed.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I hoped you could trust Harry's intuition. He's a good judge of character, and he isn't suicidal. He wouldn't hang around anyone who wished him harm."

"Is it true that you like Hermione?" George asked.

The only indication that Tom was startled by this question was a twitch in his eye. "Yeah, she's alright."

"Even though she's a Muggleborn?" Fred pressed.

Tom gave a put upon sigh. "_Despite_ being Muggleborn. She doesn't let her heritage cloud her judgment in matters regarding magic. At least, she hasn't yet."

"So you _don't_ like Muggleborns," George concluded.

Tom shrugged. "Not particularly. That isn't their fault, though. It's the Ministry's fault for waiting until they're eleven-years-old to integrate them into magical society. _That's_ what's causing strife."

"And what about Harry?" Fred pressed. "He was raised by Muggles!"

"Not really," Harry mumbled.

Tom nodded with a grin. "Harry's _always_ known what to expect of Magical Britten."

"He knows what to expect of magic, too, aye?- George asked. "Especially _Dark Magic_!"

"Oh, _please,_"Tom said with a dismissive wave. "I don't have him practicing Blood Magic or Dark curses."

"What's Blood Magic?" Harry mumbled. His comment went unnoticed.

"Then why are you teaching him about Dark Magic at all?" George hissed.

"Because you can't understand True Magic without knowing about all of it's parts! You can't just ignore something because you don't like it!" Tom cried. "Besides, even if I'm not teaching him Blood Magic or curses, Elemental Magic is pretty nifty, and it's not considered Dark if used on a small scale. I bet Harry would have a knack for it!"

"Elemental Magic isn't real," Fred stated.

"That's just a story parents tell their kids," George agreed.

"No, it's just old. Old and sometimes Dark. Wizards stopped caring to learn Elemental Magic when they began using wands."

The twins were unsure. "You really believe something like that is possible?" Fred asked.

"Of course," Tom said, shrugging.

"Show us," George demanded.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I don't have the power for that sort of thing right now. Or the focus. Something like that would destroy me in this state."

"Then teach us," George said.

Harry glanced from Tom's narrowed eyes to the twin's firm, insistent scowls. Harry was suddenly quite glad that Fred had told Hermione to mind her own business and go to bed when he and George had appeared in the common room to meet Tom. If she were here, she'd be standing right beside the twins, demanding that Tom teach her.

"Teach you?" Tom repeated slowly. "Even though it can be Dark?"

"Even though it's _not_ _real_," Fred argued.

Slowly, Tom nodded. "And if I not only prove to you that it _is_ real, but that the two of you blockheads could do it? Then you'd year me out?"

"Hear you out about what?" George asked.

"About True Magic and what the Ministry is doing to destroy it," Tom finished.

The twins met eyes, then they nodded. "Deal," they said as one.

* * *

The first week of school passed quickly. Tom didn't dare return to the Gryffindor common room, as he had already spent two evenings there at the beginning of the year, and he didn't want to attract attention to himself. Harry was left to the company of his friends.

The morning after Tom's first meeting with the twins, Harry retold the conversation to Hermione and promised her she could join them for the twins' lessons, although Hermione was disappointed to learn that her and Harry's magic was too underdeveloped to join in the lesson. She was also a little put off by the fact that Elemental Magic was considered Dark. She and Harry had a good time speculating about the old magic, though. They spent hours their first week at school looking up the old fables which included Elemental Magic, and they debated why it counted as Light Magic in small doses and Dark Magic in large.

By the time Hermione and Harry met Fred and George on Friday night, the two Third Years were almost shaking with excitement.

"You two get to learn _Ancient Magic_!" Hermione loudly whispered when the twins joined their table. She almost squealed from the idea.

"Maybe," George said, unwilling to admit Elemental Magic might be real.

"Either way, we can't meet Tom or practice _any_ of his magic in the school."

"Where else are we supposed to do it?" Hermione asked.

"Considering all of the Dementors crawling over the grounds, our options are pretty limited," Fred told them.

George glanced around the common room, and when he was satisfied no one was coming, he took an aging scroll from his bag.

"What's that?" Hermione asked as Fred helped flatten the scroll across the table.

"We nicked it from Filtch a while ago," George told her.

"So don't breath a word of this to anyone," Fred added.

Together, they pointed their wands as the scroll and murmured, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

"Wicked," Harry murmured as lines began to streak across the scroll, and he soon began to see dots and their accompanying names.

"_This is-!_" Hermione gasped.

"Hush," George demanded. "And yeah, it's a map of the school. Look here – and here – and here. Those are secret tunnels leading out of the school. Fred and I use this tunnel all the time – it leads the the basement of Honeydukes-"

"We could practice in Hogsmead!" Hermione whispered.

The twins shook their heads. "We could get to Hogsmead, but we don't know of anyplace there we could safely practice. And this other tunnel, here, it's caved in. We don't know where _this_ tunnel leads, because it's under the Whomping Willow. The map tells us to push some sort of knob whenever we go out there, but we can never get close enough."

"Tom could," Harry announced. "He can't do spells or anything, but he would have enough magic to press the knot for us!"

"And if the tunnel is caved in, like the other one?" Hermione asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "I could ask Tom. He knows tons of hiding places. I bet he would even let us into the Chamber..."

"The... what?- Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "It's just this place Tom likes to go sometimes. I haven't convinced him to take me there yet; I think it's like his sanctuary or something, you know? But he might make an allowance for this."

"Great. Into the snake's den," George muttered. But he said it like he was already resigned to the idea.

The twins rolled up their map and stuffed it into their bags. "Either way, we should head out pretty early," Fred announced. "Tom told us to meet him after breakfast. No one will ask many questions if we're gone during the day, but if we're gone after the Dementors come out to play, people will notice."

Harry and Hermione nodded.

"Oi, what's this?" Ron suddenly asked from behind the group. He marched towards the table, Neville close at his heels. "Having secret meetings?"

"In the common room?" George asked. "No, Ronnie, we were just inviting Harry and Hermione to join our little betting pool for the Quidditch scrimmage next month. Interested?"

"When you two are playing? No thank you. You're probably planning to throw the game!"

The twins shrugged. "If you're sure!"

Ron watched his brothers walk away with narrowed eyes while Neville took Fred's vacated seat and joined the table.

When the twins were gone, Ron turned his stare to Harry and Hermione. Focusing on Hermione, he said, "They wanted _you_ to gamble?"

Hermione shook her head. Finally, she said, "They were just teasing me, Ron."

"Oh, right," he muttered, taking the last seat. "Well, what are you two up to this weekend?"

"Library," Harry and Hermione answered in unison.

"Oh," Ron mumbled. "That's all? Maybe I'll find Dean and make some plans with him..."

* * *

Saturday morning found four Gryffindors and the child-like soul of Voldemort dashing across the grounds and scuttling to keep out of sight of the castle.

"There it is," George mumbled as they grew close to the Whomping Willow.

Tom hummed. "I've never seen a tree like that before."

Harry blinked. "It wasn't here when you were a student?"

Tom shook his head.

As they grew closer to the tree, it's branches began to thrash.

"Alright, Tom," George began, even though he couldn't see Tom. "There's a knot at the base of the trunk. The map says to push it."

The group moved a little further from the tree so that it's branches wouldn't thrash so horribly while Tom was sneaking towards the trunk.

"But," Hermione said softly as she eyed the tree. "Even if that opens a trap door, how do we get past-?"

Before she could finish her question, Tom reached the tree, found the root, and pressed it. Instantly, the tree stilled, and a hole appeared in the ground near the root.

"Wicked," the twins chorused.

Harry grinned and considered this a tally for Tom.

Tom slipped into the tunnel immediately after it appeared. The rest of the group moved past the tree and into the tunnel as one.

"Let me go first," Harry demanded. "Tom's already up ahead."

They crawled through the tunnel, lighting their way with their wands. Harry kept his eyes trained for Tom and was excited when his friend appeared in front of him a few minuets latter.

"It's perfect," Tom declared. "The tunnel lets out into the basement of an old house at the edge of Hogsmead – it used to be the Governor's Hall, when Hogsmead was more of a state than a little village. The place is abandoned and all boarded up. No one will bother us there."

Harry relayed Tom's message, and the group started through the tunnel with renewed enthusiasm.

"Not the Shrieking Shack," George mumbled. He sounded excited.

"A passageway beneath the Whomping Willow that leads out to the Shrieking Shack? No, it's just too good to be true!" Fred agreed.

However, the group arrived in the cellar of the Shack moments latter. Hermione and Harry coughed at the dust they disturbed as they climbed out of the tunnel, but the twins were beside themselves.

The two immediately disappeared in the upper stories to explore.

Tom scowled. "I wonder why they'd let such a significant house go to ruin. The place was a little run down when I was in school, sure, but someone always kept it from going to the dogs. And it may not look like much of a mansion, but considering the time period it was built it... This place should be a historical landmark!"

Finally, Tom shook his head and wandered upstairs after the twins.

When Harry and Hermione joined the group, they were making themselves comfortable in the dining room.

"Why do the call it the Shrieking Shack?" Hermione asked.

"Because monsters live here!" Fred answered merrily. "Can't you tell?"

Fred motioned to the walls, where gouges were clearly visible in the hazy morning light. A few rays managed to make it through the boards over the windows, but the room was still dim. They were forced to light a few candles. However, the light only provided a clearer view of the destruction inside of the house, and Hermione shuddered at the sight. _Something_ had definitely made home there, and it definitely wasn't friendly.

However, none of the dust had recently been disturbed, and the creature was long gone.

Finally, the group settled, Fred and George in the middle of the room, Harry and Hermione lingering by the kitchen door.

It only _now_ occurred to Harry that there was no mirror for Tom to communicate with, and any other reflective surface in the room was broken or soiled with age.

Harry turned to Tom and was about to point out this major flaw, but Tom interrupted him with a devious wink.

After straitening and appearing pensive for a moment, Tom became solid. Er, well, no. Not solid. But _visible. _

"W-what?" Hermione cried, and the twins jumped as well.

"What is _this_?" Fred cried.

"Just a little trick I've been working on," Tom smugly announced.

George reached forward (a little rudely, Harry thought), to touch Tom's ankle, but George's hand slipped right through.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm not _that_ strong. And I can only hold this form for a few hours, at most. I'll be able to instruct you for a while, but Harry might have to start translating for me."

Hermione shook her head. "I can summon a mirror!"

Tom shook his head. "I'll need to rest for a bit before even projecting myself into a reflective surface. It'll be fine, though. I'm sure we'll have it down pat in a few hours."

"A-a few hours?" Fred asked.

"Sure," Tom said. "It only took _me_ a few days, and I didn't have anyone teaching me."

"You've really done this before!" George cried.

"Of course," Tom said, turning up his nose. "Now are you ready to learn or not?"

* * *

By noon, a flame was dancing on the tip of George's fingers, and a circular globe of water sat in Fred's hands. George had been staring at the steady flame for half an hour, but Fred had only just managed to create the globe by drawing moisture from the air.

Now, Fred gaped like a fish. "Gwub?" he even said.

Although George had summoned fire some time ago, Fred had assumed his brother was playing some sort of trick on him. However, there was no denying that there was a neat little globe of water now sitting in his palm.

Tom sat beside Harry watching the dumbstruck twins with a grin on his face.

However, his grin slipped as the globe in Fred's hand popped.

Fred easily summoned more water, and this time the globe was larger. He popped the bubble once more and summoned yet more water.

"That's enough," Tom declared, standing. In an instant, Fred was drenched in water as the bubble fell, and George's flame was doused by the splash. "Never do anything bigger than that. Any more and the magic would be considered Dark."

Fred let out a deep sigh. "Thanks."

George was still open mouthed. "_Wicked_," he finally breathed. "Why don't people _do_ that anymore?"

"As I said," Tom explained, "Once wands were discovered, they became more convenient, and elements are easier to manipulate and control with spells. Also, Elemental Magic is easily abused, and people were prosecuted for using it to commit evils. As with most ancient magics, it earned a bad reputation. Now. Will you hear me out?"

The twins met eyes, then grudgingly agreed, "Yes."

"Good,"Tom said with a grin.

* * *

It took some arguing to win the twins. Although it wasn't brought up in front of Hermione, Fred and George seemed dead-set on disliking Tom for his relation to Voldemort. In the end, though, it was agreed: Tom wasn't quite like Voldemort, and he was right. Something _had_ to change.

The argument leading up to this conclusion was simple. Tom only had to reminded the twins that they didn't know anything about anything. Hogwart's wasn't _really_ teaching students about magic. The school was only teaching students spells.

This fact was revealed during Tom's lecture about Light Magic and Dark Magic which came about from the day's events.

"There used to be different names for magic," Tom told them. "First, it was called High Magic or Low Magic. However, a meeting of Wizards concluded that those terms didn't quite do the magic good, and the titles were changed to Sky Magic and Earth Magic, depending on where the magic was collected from. You see, in order to preform spells, you pull magic from either your own magical stores – Earth Magic, or you "borrow" the magic from a source outside, essentially using yourself as a conductor – Sky Magic. Really, there isn't much difference between the two, except one is based on force of will, and the other is based on emotion. Earth Magic is based on force of will. Sky magic is based on emotion."

"That... doesn't seem right, though," Hermione murmured. "That can't be all there is to casting spells."

Tom shook his head. "Of course not. Spells are different. Spells are based on language, and language is susceptible to change. You see, as language changed, the words for _sky_ and _earth_ sounded very similar to new words introduced to language. They were similar to _light_ and _dark_. Wizards who utilized in a certain type of magic became known as Light Wizards or Dark Wizards. However, _light_ and _dark_ presented a different connotation to the words, and the true terms, _sky _and _earth_, were lost. _Light_ and _dark_ became labels which were applied to intention, rather than the magic itself."

"What does _that_ mean?" the twins chorused.

"Did you know," Tom said slowly, "That the _Avada Kadavra_ curse is _light_ magic? It requires the caster's emotion and a hefty amount of magic from _outside_ the user. Then, something like the _cruciatus_ is _dark_ magic, drawing magic from the caster and intensifying based on force of will. This even occurs in mundane charms. A simple _lumos_ is a light spell, drawing magic from outside the caster. A levitation charm is dark, intensifying according to will."

Hermione shook her head, "That can't be true!"

But Tom nodded. "People used to specialize in a type of magic. They would preform only light magic, or only dark magic, because it would taint their natural magic and make certain types of spells work better, or they would be more powerful. Now, some people may be called Light Wizards or Dark Wizards, but their magic is only gray. Now, those terms only describe a person's personality or refers to the intentions of their spells. "

The group found their lesson astounding and hard to believe. However, after a few hard hours searching through the library, they found a few references to back up Tom's explanation. Sure, they were only references, but they were _big_ references. At first, the group assumed they were looking at typos. However, they soon realized they were looking at the old words for _light_ and _dark – _the book was talking about _earth _and _sky._

* * *

As September wore on, the twins, Harry, and Hermione made a habbit of sneaking off to the Shrieking Shack and talking about all things magic. When Tom joined them, they had debates and grilled Tom on his oppionions and thoughts. Fred and George soon warmed up to Tom, even joking about being friends with a Slytherin and a Snake. They were still weary at times, but only when Tom mentioned something that reminded them of Voldemort. Luckily, Tom didn't have _too_ much in common with the madman, and those little quirks could be ignored.

**A/N: The story is getting exciting! I/m finally expanding on things I/ve been hinting at for the ENTIRE story. But Harry/s old enough now to understand some of the basic issues about magic, and Tom/s making friends with some older students, so we can finally get into this stuff! Fun!**

**Next chapter: Neville confronts Harry about where he/s been dissapearing to on the weekends, and Harry has to come up with an explanation that doesn/t involve Tom, sneaking out of the school with the twins, or elemental magic! Read on, and Review, please!**


	28. Chapter 28

The first Monday of October found Harry sitting in the Great Hall during breakfast, chewing at the end of a quill while he contemplated his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. And although he was starring at words about Banshees and how to counteract their magic, he was thinking about Boggarts. It had been two weeks since Lupin's lesson, yet Harry still found himself unsettled by the event.

He had spent the lesson worrying over what his Boggart could possibly be. When he considered the thing he feared most, he could only think of loosing Tom. He remembered First Year, when Tom was missing and he hadn't known if his friend was even alive anymore.

Then, he worried about what form a Boggart would take in front of Harry's teacher and classmates. He wondered what that shape would reveal about Tom.

Harry had been honestly relieved when Lupin ended class before Harry could take his turn at the Boggart. He was so relieved, he hadn't questioned Lupin's actions. However, after pondering the event for several days, Harry wondered why the professor hadn't wanted Harry to face the Boggart.

Harry wondered if Lupin suspected something.

Gathering his nerve, Harry resolved to speak with Lupin before classes that morning. Harry began to gather his homework and stuff it into his bag, intent on tracking the Defense professor down. However, as he turned away from the table, Harry almost ran into Neville.

"Oh, mornin' Neville," Harry greeted, surprised by Neville's proximity. The two were almost stepping on each other's toes. "Everything all right?"

"I suppose," Neville answered, backing away from Harry a little. However, he stayed close enough that others wouldn't hear their conversation. "I guess I really wanted to ask you the same thing."

Harry frowned. "Everything's all right with me," Harry told him. "Why?"

"I don't know," Neville answered. "You've been disappearing a lot, and you've seemed kinda distracted."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning at the implication of Neville's words.

Neville shrugged and shuffled his feet a little. Focusing his eyes on a point behind Harry, he said, "It's just, you and Hermione always say you're studying in the library during the weekends, but I can never find you there."

Harry blushed as he realized he'd been caught in a lie.

Neville was blushing, too. "You know... you can tell me if you're..."

Now, Harry frowned. "If I'm what?"

"If you're... you know... and with Hermione..."

Suddenly understanding what Neville was getting at, Harry cried, "What? No!"

His voice was a little too loud, and the students eating breakfast turned to stare at the pair.

"Oh! Okay," Neville said quickly, all too happy to accept that two of his closest friends weren't carrying on a secret relationship without telling him. However, at the same time... Neville had done a good job at convincing himself that the two _were_ carrying on in secret. He had been very careful about considering the evidence and all possible conclusions before approaching Harry with his suspicions. Neville thought that he and Harry were friends, and he definitely thought he knew Harry and Hermione, so Neville asked, "But... why not?"

Again blushing furiously, Harry said, "Can we not talk about this here?"

"Oh! Yeah, um..."

"Why don't we walk to class?" Harry suggested.

Neville quickly agreed, and the two started out of the Great Hall.

"Look," Harry began, "Hermione and I aren't going out or anything."

Again, Neville wanted to ask _Why not?_, but his courage was beginning to fail him, and he was becoming overly embarrassed by his mistake. Still, he was able to ask, "Then why have you two been lying about studying in the library?"

"We may not be going out, but we've still been discussing a lot of things which can't really be discussed in public, you know?"

"Oh, like Sirius Black?" Neville guessed.

Jumping at the excuse, Harry said, "Exactly."

Yet, at this admission, Neville still looked incredibly hurt. "You can talk to me about that kind of stuff, too, you know. I bet I could help a little."

Harry sighed as remorse washed over him. He had to keep reminding himself that he had more than three or four friends, and just because he couldn't trust them with a few pieces of choice information didn't mean he couldn't trust them with _anything_.

"I know you can help, Neville. You already have, remember? On the train, when you were able to tell me Black's connection to my parents? Sorry I keep dismissing you. Things have just been... really stressful the last few weeks, and I haven't been acting properly."

An apology and the validation of their friendship was all Neville needed, and he was able to give Harry a small grin. "I understand, Harry. Just... don't forget that I'm around if you need anything."

Harry gave Neville a large smile and a nod. Neville returned the smile before remembering that he hadn't had breakfast yet. He promised he'd meet Harry after classes that day, then Neville started back towards the Great Hall.

Harry sighed in relief. However, he felt bad about leaving Neville out of the loop. Harry knew he could trust Neville, and the guy had taught Harry a ton of things about High Wizarding Society in the past. Harry wondered if he _could_ trust Neville with a few more of his secrets.

However, before Harry could come to any sort of conclusion, a voice sounded behind him, calling his name.

Harry turned, and he saw Professor Lupin standing in a doorway across the hall. He was mortified when he realized that he had automatically led Neville to this area for their little conversation, and Lupin had probably heard most of what they were talking about.

"Oh, good morning professor," Harry called to the professor.

"Harry, would you care to join me for a cup of tea before class?" Lupin asked.

Harry desperately wanted to decline. He didn't want the professor involved in his affairs. However, Harry soon remembered what his intentions were before he'd met with Neville, and Harry remembered that he indeed had something to discuss with Lupin.

Still, Harry was hesitant when he accepted Professor Lupin's invitation.

Soon, Harry was settled in Lupin's office with a cup of tea, and Lupin was sitting across from him.

"I know you have classes this morning," Lupin began, "But I feel we need to discuss a few things. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Mr. Longbottom."

"Yeah," Harry acknowledged. After the pair left the Great Hall, they hadn't exactly been discrete.

"And Harry, I'm concerned about the issue of Sirius Black," Lupin finished.

Harry shifted uneasily, staring into his cup of tea.

"Is what you said to Mr. Longbottom true, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Which part?" he asked. Harry wondered why Professor Lupin would care about Harry and Neville's friendship, especially when Harry had just apologized for his behavior in the past weeks.

"Have you been researching Sirius Black? Is that why you've seemed so distracted during the last few weeks?" Lupin asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I guess that's part of it, sure."

"Have you spoken to Professor McGonagal about this, Harry?"

Now, Harry gave the professor a challenging frown. "Would she actually tell me anything?"

Harry was surprised when Lupin gave a light chuckle at Harry's behavior. "I suppose she wouldn't, no."

The way Lupin acknowledged Harry's concern with a laugh made him feel as if the man was belittling him, and Harry's temper flared. "I'm not a child!"

Lupin shook his head. "Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean we won't try to protect you."

"Protect me?" Harry asked. "From what?"

The very notion that the professors were trying to protect him was preposterous. After all, they didn't know anything about him. As far as Harry could tell, they had no _reason_ to protect him. All he had was Tom. And Hermione. And the twins. And maybe Neville. The professors of Hogwarts, however, were completely uninvolved as far as Harry was concerned.

Lupin seemed to understand all of this in Harry's expression, and he sighed. "The very fact that you ask that question suggests that you don't understand. You don't know what Black wants. You don't know what he's capable of. You don't understand what lengths he'd go to in order to hurt you, Harry."

Harry frowned, considering Lupin's warning. "But you _do_ know?" Harry asked.

Lupin nodded. "Better than almost anyone, I'd guess."

"But you won't tell me," Harry pouted.

Lupin shook his head. "No. Not right now, anyways. You say you're not a child, but this issue is clearly weighing heavily on you. I couldn't bare you with any more burden."

"Would you tell me, though?" Harry asked. "If you knew I could handle it?"

Slowly, Lupin nodded. "If I knew you could be responsible about it, then yes."

Harry nodded resolutely, already planning to meet with Tom and Hermione so they could discuss ways to ring the information out of Lupin.

"Now, I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but it's time you got going to class," Lupin stated. "However, if there's anything else you wish to discuss, feel free to visit me during my office hours."

Harry almost groaned when he realized their time was up and he _still_ hadn't had a chance to ask about the Boggart incident. He'd have to be content in searching Lupin out during office hours.

**Annoying Note: It/s a short chapter, but hey! It/s a chapter! And with my track record on updating, I feel like this counts for something.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this new bit of drama. Review and tell me what you think. **

**Next chapter: With Neville/s help, the gang gets serious about Sirius, and Tom tells Harry about his new Slytherin friends. **


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